Void Berserker Series Book 1: The Red Legion
by DespertaFerro
Summary: Lord Ghathrax of the World Eaters is summoned by a strange pink-haired girl after his army is massacred. Read about the brutal war that will ensue, and discover the truth behind the legendary prophecy of the Void Berserker. Based on Zero no Tsukaima events during the Albion War. Rated M for extreme violence, sexual content and occasional foul language.
1. Chapter 1: Madness

**Prologue**

Halkeginia is a world of fantasy, sorcery and marvelous wonders. The nobles, who are part of great families that descend from the Founder Brimir, can use magic thanks to the power of God that courses through their veins. They have been the legitimate rulers of the world since the Founding of the Kingdoms, and they direct the destinies of millions under their iron fist.

The commoners, those who can't use magic, have come to accept this. They live, love, prosper, fight and die at the whim of the Mages.

The Mages summon servants from other worlds, called familiars, which can add their abilities to the already formidable powers their masters have. Some can become legendary. Sometimes, through the portals to these worlds, other things come through. Formidable weapons, powerful artifacts... and terrible demons.

It is a time of turmoil, and war. In the northern Kingdom of Albion, a rebellion against the nobles has started. Thousands have already died, and more will follow. But there is something more dangerous than the revolt itself. It's an idea. Armies can conquer nations, but ideas can ravage entire worlds.

In the South, the Crusades against the Elves are gaining momentum. There is no peace for the enemies of God.

In the West, the small kingdom of Tristain struggles to survive against the Gallian expansionism, and the power of the Germanian Sacred Empire. The King has recently died, and his young daughter is about to be crowned Queen, amidst the ambition of traitorous courtesans and dangerous palace intrigues. The Tristainian royal families are seasoned veterans of a hundred campaigns and frontier skirmishes. There is no place for mediocrity amongst them.

It is the 19th of April of the Year of the Founder of 1648. It is a time of darkness, and fear, and turbulence. It is the time of the Great Alliance, the Revolution of the Roses, the Red Legion... and the Void Berserker.

**Janus IV, 18 light years from the Eye of Terror, 998 M41**

Ghathrax raised his power fist to the blood red sky of Janus IV, bellowing his allegiance to the Chaos God Khorne. The Space Marine then pointed his armored finger towards the alien tide coming down on his forces.

'Slaughter the enemy! Blood for the Blood God!' he shouted.

The remnants of the Chaos forces reorganised, preparing for their last stand. The Tyranid swarm was almost upon them. Bolters roared, autoguns barked, men yelled. The ragtag army of cultists, traitor Imperial Guards and Chaos Space Marines led by Lord Ghathrax of the World Eaters rushed forward to meet the horde of skittering creatures that charged against them at full speed, weapons firing and blades bare. Chainswords and axes buzzed to life, their adamantium teeth tearing at air, hungry for flesh and blood.

Gathrax's warriors and the Tyranids ran towards each other, screaming to the top of their lungs until, with a brutal sound of utmost violence, they clashed. Both lines smashed against each other, as the fighters tore at their enemies in an almost obscene display of extreme savagery and bloodlust. The Tyranids were ferocious, and inflicted many casualties among the crazed Chaos warriors, but their numbers and ferocity could not compete against the sheer fanatism of the traitors. Ghathrax was especially lethal. His power fist crushed, and swinged in mortal arcs, sending limbs flying and beating aliens to pulp. In his other hand, a boltgun barked repeatedly, .75 caliber explosive-tipped projectiles punching into chitinous carapaces and exploding inside the scuttling monstrosities that tried to sink their claws and teeh into the enormous Khornate Berserker. Ghathrax gave himself completely to the massacre alongside his brothers, his blood-red armor bathing in the foul icor of the aliens. It was glorious.

The madness continued non-stop for the entire day, claws, fangs and pyroacid spit meeting Bolter rounds, chainswords and monomolecular blades. Still, despite the extreme violence displayed by the Chaos warriors and the enormous amount of casualties they were inflicting to their enemies, the Tyranids were simply too many to be contained. The cultists were swiftly swept from the field, the traitor Guards soon shared their fate, and the Space Marines fell one by one until there were none to carry on the fight. Except for one of them.

Standing on a rising pile of dead bodies, Ghathrax still fought on. His power fist slammed into several enemies at once with each blow, sending them flying with every bone in their bodies broken. His roars of defiance and rage could be heard clearly over the screeching of the swarm. Ghathrax knew this was the end, yet he didn't care. He only cared about taking the most enemies with him to the halls of the Brass Palace, to present Khorne with the mightiest of gifts. And so, he kept killing, not giving a moment's thought to anything but the next enemy.

'BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE! SOULS FOR THE SOUL EATER!' he roared, as alien bodies piled higher and higher under him and around him.

A green light shone behind Ghathrax. He didn't turn, because an especially aggressive monster with claws like razors jumped at him and made him step back. With a shout, both fell through the portal that had just opened for them, and landed on soft, green grass. Ghathrax didn't lose a second, and struck the alien with his power fist again and again, crushing its head under the highly durable adamantium weapon. Icor, brain matter and bone shards flew everywhere. Breathing heavily, the Space Marine got up, and looked around. Of it all, the least surprising and strange was the bunch of teens that now stared at him, their jaws dropped, and their eyes wide open.


	2. Chapter 2: Binding

**Thank you for your reviews, guys! The first chapter was more like a prologue, so future chapters including this one will be considerably longer. **

**I own nothing of Warhammer 40k or Zero no Tsukaima. All rights go to their respective owners (obviously, lol). **

Ghathrax rose, dark alien icor dripping from his power fist. He was surrounded by kids, barely teenagers, who were dressing in strange uniforms with capes. In their hands they held sticks, maybe as a symbol of status. For some ten seconds nobody moved or said anything. Then, a red-haired girl with a large bust pointed at the Chaos Space Marine:

'What... what is _that_?'

Others joined in, evidently confused:

'Yeah, what the hell is it?'

'It looks like a golem...'

'What did you summon, Louise? Is this another of your screw-ups or what?'

Ghathrax didn't care about anything those brats were saying, but he became offended when he heard the puny kids call him an _it, _and a _screw-up_. The Berserker looked around, trying to discern where he was. It wasn't Janus IV, that was for sure. The sky was blue, the grass was soft and green, and there was no sign of the Tyranid swarm. He seemed to be in some kind of yard, dominated by what seemed like a great palace, or an opulent castle.

'Miss Vallière, please finish the contract, and bind your familiar.' a voice said, behind Ghathrax.

'What? Oh, yes, Professor Colbert. Right away.' another voice said, this one high pitched and nervous-sounding. 'Hey you! Familiar! Look at me!'

Ghathrax turned around, and for a moment he failed to locate the source of the demands. Then, he looked down and saw a tiny girl, with strawberry-blond hair, dressing that strange school uniform. She was waving one of those ridiculous little sticks in her right hand, and her face looked like she was about to explode in rage... or embarrasment.

_What in the seven hundred names of the Blood God does she want with me? _

The Berserker leaned closer to the teen, and spoke in a menacing way:

'Who the hell are you? What am I doing in this place? And what do you mean by _familiar_?'

'I-I am Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière! I am your master, and you are here because I summoned you to be my familiar, my eternal servant and companion, in this life and the next!' the small girl bellowed to the top of her lungs, mustering up all the courage she could gather. Then, grabbing the sides of the helmet of the Space Marine, she planted a kiss right on the respirator grill.

With a sudden roar, Ghathrax pulled back, throwing Louise to one side.

'What are you talking about, you _rodent_! I serve no one but the Great Primarch Angron and the Chaos God Khorne himself! You are nothing to me!' he shouted, raising his power fist to squash her like a bug. The next two things that happened surprised him more than anything had in his more than ten thousand years of age.

The first was that several runes had begun to appear on the back of his left gauntlet, erasing the obscene symbols already etched on the crimson-red metal.

The second, was that she actually attacked him. With a furious waving of her wand, Louise casted explosion after explosion, which slammed into the Berserker like a hurricane, while she screamed with all the strength of her vocal cords:

'YOU MISERABLE SON OF A COMMONER DOG! HOW DARE YOU ATTACK YOUR MASTER! I SWEAR TO THE FOUNDER, IF YOU DON'T KNEEL BEFORE ME AND SWEAR ME FEALTY RIGHT NOW, I WILL PERSONNALLY BLOW YOU TO BITS AND SCATTER THEM TO THE WINDS! KNEEL! KNEEL I SAID!'

With each word a new blast hit Ghathrax's armor, sending him tumbling backwards, his servos groaning as they tried to keep him on his feet. The armor was taking such a pounding that the readings in his HUD started to blurr, and the metal began to scorch and budge.

Ghathrax tried to respond, to take down the threat, but something stronger than his willpower kept him from doing it. Meanwhile, Louise yelled in rage, fastening the rate at which she cast the explosions, forcing Ghathrax down, making him fall on his knees. Ten or twelve blasts later, the Chaos Space Marine was kneeling down, at the mercy of the diminutive girl. The armor was overloaded, and the servos didn't respond, the internal software working frantically to restore primary functions.

The Berserker was astonished by Louise's sudden display of violence and rage. He didn't expect her to react in such a savage way. Forcing down his pride, Ghathrax stayed on his knees. This was the first time he'd been beaten down in millenia. The armor's re-boot sequence completed, and Ghathrax raised his head.

Louise looked down at the defeated warrior, and stretched out her hand:

'Take my hand, and swear me an oath of eternal loyalty! Now!'

Ghathrax looked at Louise's hand for a few seconds, before taking it in his massive armored hand. He was extremely impressed. If his new master was this fierce and warlike, maybe it wouldn't be such a horrible thought to serve her. Besides, maybe this was a test, or a punishment set by Khorne, most probably because of his failure at Janus IV. Who was he to defy the will of the Lord of Skulls?

'I, Ghathrax Crimsonfist, hereby swear before the Gods to be loyal to Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière for every second of my life until my master release me or death take me.' he said, spitting every word as if it was a piece of burning wood.

'Rise, Ghathrax of the World Eaters, my familiar, my champion, my shield against all enemies. Your loyalty won't go unrewarded, as your insults or misbehavings won't go unpunished.' Louise answered, finishing the binding contract.

Ghathrax stood on his feet, and looked up again.

Everyone in the yard was deadly quiet, their jaws slacked open at what they had just witnessed.

'What are you looking at?!' Louise barked at them. Immediately, all the students dispersed, their respective familiars following them as they scattered in every direction. Only Professor Colbert stayed behind.

'Well done, Miss Vallière. Your performance was... unorthodox, but effective. No doubt about that. Carry on, please. You'll have classes tomorrow morning, so you should go back to your room. Congratulations on summoning your familiar.'

'Oh, thanks Proffesor. I will retire then. With your permission... Come on, familiar. We have things to do.' Louise said.

'Yes... master' Ghathrax grumbled. Of course, he had no intention of honoring his word. He would not have a little girl, no matter how impressively violent she was, ordering him around. He was nobody's bootlicker. He followed her to her room in the castle nonetheless, thinking on how to betray his "master" and escape this Khorne-forsaken world.

**Black Hill, three hundred leagues from Newcastle, Albion.**

The albionese royalist army was camped at the slopes of the Black Hill, preparing for battle. Those eight thousand men were the last line of defence against the fourteen thousand strong rebel army. General O'Conor, the leader of the royalists, looked through his spy-glass towards the rebels. There was a lot of movement in the enemy camp, and it seemed they would present battle soon.

'Begin deploying the forces. Musketeers in front, pikers behind, and archers in the wings, covering the cavalry. Leave the knights in reserve, hidden inside that forest to the west.' he told his staff.

The royalist cannons dominated the battlefield, in their privileged position on the top of the Black Hill. The gunmen adjusted aim, so that the rebel army would have trouble getting on a blind spot. Meanwhile, both armies started to move against each other. They had roughly the same composition, and their strategy was similar. The musketeers in the front tried to soften up the enemy, firing close volleys of lead bullets for ten to fifteen minutes, until the battle lines were close enough to use their pikes.

Blood ran in rivers when both pike walls met each other. The soldiers from each side thrusted, and pushed, and struggled, and screamed, and stumbled, and tumbled, and fell. The sergeants barked orders, the cannons fired.

At first, the royalist artillery wreaked havoc within the rebel forces, their higher position and better quality giving them advantage over the small, poorly operated cannons the rebels had fielded. The 36-pound iron balls smashed into the ranks again and again, carving bloody paths. But in the melees, the rebels were gaining the upper hand. Their higher numbers gave them the edge they needed to balance the battle despite the superior firepower of the royalist forces.

Light cavalry in both wings charged, and met each other with their sabers drawn, and their carbines firing at each other. Whoever gained control of the wings would most probably win the battle, because the pike walls, so strong in the front, were vulnerable on the flanks and the rear.

O'Conor's gamble of leaving the knights behind, hidden, paid off fairly well. When the heavily armored cavalry charged at the rebel dragoons in the eastern wing, it seemed the royalists would win the battle, as they routed the lightly armed cavalry and turned on the sides of the enemy pike walls. But the rebels had a hidden ace. As soon as the knights headed for the pike walls, the ranks opened and the musketeers came out.

The heavy cavalry is normally used as a hammer. What they lack in speed they make up for in attack power, as they are clad in the heaviest and finest armor available, and they carry the best swords and lances. But their worst aspect is the lack of maneuverability.

When the musketeers formed in front of the charging knights, the cavalrymen tried to pull away. They were not fast enough. The musketeers lined up, aimed, and fired a storm of bullets against the heavy cavalry in disarray. Dozens fell, the small lead balls piercing their armor without effort. Then, the first line of musketeers kneeled, and the second fired. More screams, more clouds of smoke, more knights were shot down from their horses. The rebel light cavalry seized the opportunity, and charged again. The agile dragoons shot past the iron-clad warriors, shredding them apart with their light sabres, and turning away before the knights could respond.

Soon, the tattered and ruined heap that was left of the royalist flanks were crushed. And then, the rout began. Hundreds of men had witnessed their cavalry being torn to bits, and lost all will to fight. Forced to face a numerically superior enemy, and with their flanks and rear exposed, the royalists gave ground, before turning and running for their lives.

The rebels pursued, killing hundreds, and capturing thousands as soon as they surrendered. General O'Conor was dead, an arrow having pierced his neck. His chief of staff were trying to escape, or had surrendered.

When the sun set over the horizon, only three hundred bloodied, exhausted and terrified soldiers had reached Newcastle safely. All the others were dead, captured or had run away. Nothing stood now between the King of Albion and the rebels.

**There, how's that? I hope you liked it, guys. I'll try to post every two or three days. Constructive cryticism is always welcome, by the way. Oh, and if my grammar or spelling are incorrect, tell me. I'm Spanish, so English isn't my mother tongue, and I'd like to improve my writing skills so you can enjoy the story to the fullest. **

**If you feel the chapters are too short, I'll try to make them longer, but know that they will also take longer to write. **


	3. Chapter 3: Punishment

**New chapter is up! Thanks for your reviews, people. They are pretty useful, and they're helping me make a better story. **

**I hope this chapter helps you understand some things a little better. Enjoy!**

Louise was lost in her thoughts as she walked through the corridors of the Tristain Academy of Magic. Her familiar walked behind her. Louise had wished for a beautiful, powerful, and sacred familiar, but while he certainly looked powerful he hardly was beautiful or sacred.

He was 7 feet tall, dwarfing the small mage. He was clad in crimson-red armor, with chains and skulls hanging from nails hammered into the steel plates. The brass trims on the edges of the armor appeared faded and stained with splatters of dried blood. Thorns emerged from the giant's shoulders, sharp and mighty. The familiar's head was enclosed in a full helmet, from which two metal horns symetrically protruded. Steam emerged from the respirator grill with every breath of the enormous demigod that now served her, giving him a dreadful appearance.

They reached a door at the turn of a dimly-lit corridor, and Louise opened it. The room inside was big, and iluminated by candles on the walls and ceiling. Rich carpets decorated the floor, and a very big double bed occupied the center. The drawers, cabinets and tables were made of good-quality wood, and were neatly polished.

Louise stepped inside, and beckoned Ghathrax to do the same. The Space Marine had to hunker down to be able to get through the door, but he managed to do it.

'This is my room. You will sleep on the floor next to my bed every day, and wake me on the morning after sunrise. Understood?' the mage said.

Ghathrax felt his blood boiling to that indignity, but he closed his fists and said, through his gritted teeth:

'Yes, master'.

'Good. I'm going to bed now. Take my clothes and find a servant to wash them. Then, you can go to sleep, or whatever you want.' she said, beggining to undress. She didn't seem to care appearing nude before Ghathrax, and neither did he. He just took the clothes she handed him, and left the room without a word.

Ghathrax recalled seeing a fountain in the yard, so he headed over there. He had memorized the way, so he had no trouble finding it. The sun was already setting, so there wasn't too much movement outside. Only one maid was cleaning a stained mantle at the fountain. Ghathrax approached her.

'You there. Are you a servant?' he said, in a loud, mechanic-sounding voice.

The maid turned, and screamed at the sight of him:

'Y-yes, my lord! Please, don't hurt me!' tears started to journey down her cheeks, and she covered her head with her hands. She didn't look older than sixteen or seventeen.

'Shut up. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have already done it. Take these clothes, wash them and have them sent back to Louise de la Vallière. Understood?' Ghathrax told her, throwing them at her.

The maid only nodded, terrified by the imposing presence of the Chaos Space Marine.

'Good.'

He turned to leave, and then, he heard a strange voice behind him. It was that of the young girl, but it was distorted, in an obscene way.

_'Ghathrax Crimsonfist, my herald.' _

Ghathrax stopped dead on his tracks. Until that moment, there had been multiple sounds in the background. The running water, the chirp of birds, the screeching of crickets... but now everything was absolutely still. Even the water had stopped coming out of the fountain.

'What did you say?' the Space Marine growled, turning around. Involuntarily, his left hand went to his bolt pistol, as the power fist on his right activated in a shower of blue sparks.

The maid was standing, a half smile on her lips. Her eyes were rolled upwards, leaving the white side to sight. Her silky raven hair was floating in the air. When she spoke again, the very stones seemed to cower down in fear.

_'Ghathrax Crimsonfist, my champion. My favourite son. You have disgraced my name. You have betrayed your word. You were defeated, yet you didn't die. You should have fallen, like your men. Your skull should be in my palace, looking eternally at the carnage and slaughter and the shedding of blood in my name. Ghathrax Crimsonfist, have you forsaken the agreement we had? _

'Lord of Skulls...' Gathrax muttered, before falling on his knees. The Butcher's Nails on his head were on fire, and pain drilled his brain with every word the Blood God Khorne spoke.

_'You have failed me. I should end your life right now and feed your soul to my hounds. But I have a better idea. I will give you another chance. Another opportunity to prove yourself to me. Are you willing to amend your mistake? Are you willing to pledge your soul to me once more?'_

'Yes! Yes, My Lord! Tell me what I must do! I will anihilate this entire world and drown it in blood if that is your wish!'

_'Though that would be pleasing to me, that isn't what I want from you. It was I that stayed your hand when you tried to strike down that girl, the one who bound you. I have plans for her, plans I will not share with you. You will protect her, and obey her as faithfully as if it were me. Do this, and your rewards will be great. Fail me again, and I will not be as merciful.' _

'I swear it, Lord Khorne. I will bathe in the blood of her enemies!' Ghathrax promised, raising his head to look at the god.

_'Also, I expect you to be as fierce and aggressive in battle as you were before... but you'll be doing it without help... from THIS!' _

The pain in the Berserker's skull multiplied tenfold, making him howl in agony. He rolled over, his hands pressed against the helmet, every muscle in his body strained. The Butcher's Nails burned like molten iron, hot, so hot...

-:-

When Ghathrax woke up, it was already nighttime, and he was surrounded by people. Some carried torches, and all looked at him in curiosity. He moved his head around, looking for the maid. She was there, between the people, being interrogated by a bald man in a tunic and Ghathrax's master. The maid's eyes were normal again, and she looked very nervous and worried. Louise was wearing a nightgown, instead of her uniform, and seemed to be really angry, for she was shouting something to the maid.

Everyone took a few steps back, as the Space Marine's armor whirred, getting him on his feet. He began walking towards Louise, the maid and the bald man, but something made him suddenly stop.

The pain was... gone. Not just the pain Khorne had inflicted on him, but also the pain from the Nails.

The Butcher's Nails were excelent pieces of archaeotechnology, hammered into a warrior's head. They enhanced the warrior's aggresive instincts while suppressing their self-preservation ones. But they had a fault. They inflicted constant pain on their bearers, making it difficult for them to control their urges and impulses. Most died short after the implantation, but if perfected and implanted on a Space Marine, the Nails turned them into perfect soldiers. Still, the pain was constant, and many became mad, turning into frenzied, drooling and screaming killing machines after some decades.

Ghathrax had always managed to stay under control. Even when the pain was unbearable and it grinded against the fringes of his sanity, he would sit in his cell aboard his ship, and meditate, embracing the pain, offering it as a sacrifice to the gods in the dark.

Battle had been his release for millenia. The thrill of combat distracted him from the pain, and allowed him to achieve great deeds on the field, making him one of Khorne's favourite.

But now, it was simply gone. He felt more at peace with himself than he'd ever felt since that night ten thousand years ago, when the apothecaries had hammered the devices into his head and turned him into a full member of the Legion.

Ghathrax made his way through the crowd and advanced towards Louise:

'-ould have gotten help from someone, instead of sitting on the ground doing nothing! Had it not been for Tabitha, we might not have found him until morning...!' she was shouting.

'Enough, master. I'm alive, and well. It takes more than a little headache to kill me.' Ghathrax said.

Louise turned, and saw her familiar.

'Familiar? Wh-what? B-but how...?' she stammered.

'You. What do you recall about earlier today? Speak quickly.' Ghathrax said to the maid, interrupting the other girl.

'I-I don't rem-remember anything, m-my lord! You were just leaving, and s-suddenly, you were on the floor, screaming!' she said, cowering before the World Eater.

'Hmm, strange indeed. Is this the first time something like this happened to you, familiar?' the bald man asked Ghathrax.

'No. And I wasn't talking to you, mortal. Get out of my sight.' The Chaos Space Marine told him.

Louise cut in.

'Don't talk to Professor Colbert like that, familiar! He's a teacher! You will address him with respect!'

'Yes, master.' Ghathrax snorted.

'Well, Miss Vallière, you should get to your room. You have classes in the morning.' Proffessor Colbert said. 'Everyone, back to your rooms! There's nothing to see here!'

Louise and Ghathrax walked away, and headed back to the Academy. Once they were inside Louise's room, the girl sat on the bed and spoke:

'You caused quite the disturbance out there. Want to tell me what that was all about? Grabbing your head and screaming, and then staying unconscious for hours... Nobody could move you, and everyone thought you were dead...'

Ghathrax stood in front of her and told her about the maid, Khorne possessing the girl's body, and the burning sensation in his brain.

'Wait, wait. Who is this... Corn? And what does he have to do with you?' Louise asked.

'_Khorne_. He is my patron god, the Lord of Massacres, the Killer of Worlds, the God of Eternal War. He sits upon a hundred million skulls of fallen warriors, over a pool of boiling blood, overseeing every battle that is fought, every life that is taken, every death that is mourned.' Ghathrax answered.

'You serve _him_? Why would you pledge your faith to that demon? Aren't there any other gods?'

'Yes, there are. Slaanesh, the Dark Prince, God of Pleasure. Tzeentch, Lord of Change. And Nurgle, Master of Death, and Father of Plagues. They inhabit the Warp, and rule the destinies of mere mortals, and of those of us who have been ascended.'

'What is the Warp?' Louise then asked.

'Imagine a person. That person, when born, has experiences, feelings. These feelings, rage, fear, love, happiness, feed the person's soul. But when that person dies, the soul is suddenly released from its body. Are you following me?'

'Yes, but what does a person's soul have to do with this... Warp?'

'I'll tell you in a moment. Now imagine a sea. The sea is formed by millions upon millions of little drops. The Warp is that sea. And the millions of drops are the souls of dead people, crammed with feelings, experiences, emotions. They all float in it, amongst the Gods in the Dark and the daemons who serve them.'

'Daemons? What daemons?'

'They are the Unnamed Ones, the servants of the Dark Gods. They hunt the souls of the lost and the damned, and devour them to gain strength. If a daemon is powerful enough, they can take up a mortal form, and haunt the world of the living.'

Louise was horrified.

'So you are one of those... daemons?'

'No, of course not. Sometimes, mortals and warriors like myself take up oaths and pledges of eternal servitude with the Chaos Gods in exchange for rewards beyond belief. We give our bodies and souls to the Gods, so that we may gain immortality, glory, wealth, and many other things. The greatest of servants receive the greatest of rewards. Some are even invited to join the Gods in their realm as their undying champions, the daemon princes.'

'And you aspire to become one of those too?' Louise asked.

'If it is in my destiny.' Ghathrax answered. 'It is not an easy task, to impress a God.'

'But these... Gods... they're evil. And so is the Warp.'

'Are they? The God Nurgle has the power of giving life, not only death. Slaanesh inhabits every small pleasure, even that of taking a bath after a long journey, or eating a delicacy, or enjoying the pleasures of the flesh... Tzeentch is the Lord of Change, but could you imagine a world without change? A world that stayed still, unmoving... for all eternity? Even Khorne has a good side to him, for he gives courage, pride, honour. Like everything, the power of the Warp, and the Gods, are but the use people give to them. I'm not ashamed of anything that I've done in the name of the Gods. But I bet there are many in your world who are, even if it is in the name of theirs, and for a "good cause".

'Yes, but...' Louise sighed. 'Well, it's getting late. I must sleep, but I will think about it. Good night, familiar.' she said, flicking her wand. Immediately, the candles in the room stopped giving light.

'Good night, master.' Ghathrax said, laying on the floor to sleep too.

Then, Louise turned over to face her familiar.

'One more thing, familiar. What did you say was your name?' she said, in a hushed tone.

'My name is Ghathrax Crimsonfist, master.' he answered.

'I'll remember it this time' she said, turning over again and closing her eyes. She was soon asleep.

That night, Louise dreamt of a bloodstained field of battle. A thick cloud of smoke covered all, blocking the sunlight. She was looking desperately for someone. She didn't know who it was, but if only she could find them, everything would be alright. Then, she tripped on a horribly charred corpse. There were many other dead bodies, torn up, burned, smashed to pulp. Giant ship wrecks protruded from the ground here and there.

Then, Louise heard a growl behind her. She turned, and saw something moving in the smoke. She couldn't see it completely. But what she could see was a trio of massive, red, glowing eyes, looking at her. She stared into those eyes, and saw a hunger beyond reason, that humankind would never be able to comprehend. The thing roared, making an ear-splitting sound and deafening Louise. The last thing she saw was an enormous open jaw, coming down on her, and a sickening crunch as it snapped closed again.

**Well, that's it for today! As always, constructive cryticism is welcome, and wanted. I'm fully aware that my writing skills are not perfect, and I'm trying to correct that so you can enjoy the story. This is my first written work, but don't be merciful. **

**There will be romances in Void Berserker, by the way, and they will include sexual intercourse in some cases, so... don't like, don't read. It won't be too explicit, don't worry, but when they turn up in further chapters I don't want people hating for not warning. **


	4. Chapter 4: Eagles of Albion

**New chapter for you, people. **

**By the way, I'd like for some romance pairing suggestions, because I'm out of ideas on that. I'd like for you to leave a comment on the review page with the pairing you'd like to see in the story. There can be any combinations. **

-:-

**Albion, somewhere off the coast of Westshire. Warship _Eagle, _48 cannons, 198 souls aboard. **

Prince Wales Tudor peered at the rebel warship coming right after them with his spy-glass. The damned sucker had detected them after coming out of some clouds.

'Full ahead, Mr. Gray! Beat to quarters!' the prince shouted to his First Mate.

'Beat to quarters! Come on, you lazy slugs, duty awaits for no one! Sharpshooters, to the topsails!' Mr. Gray said. He was a very tall bald man, with a scar crossing his face down the left cheek. His voice, low pitched and powerful, was enough to make the royalist sailors start climbing the masts as if the devil himself had issued the orders.

Word was Mr. Gray had fought in every war for the last thirty years, sometimes under orders from the Crown, and sometimes as a mercenary. His reputation was fearsome.

Bells rang, drums rolled, and the _Eagle_ started boiling with activity. The gunners rushed below deck, and began loading the cannons, while other sailors went about unfurling the sails, collecting weapons from the armory, dousing the fires in the kitchen, and bringing out the wood that would be needed to patch up any holes in the hull of the ship.

Wales peered at the other warship, her name visible now: it was the _Goodgrace._

The _Goodgrace _was a fairly new ship, and it was considerably faster and bigger than the _Eagle._ It had 74 cannons, and 367 souls aboard. The captain, Lord Sweeney Coates, was a rather inexperienced fellow. He'd never been in actual combat, though he liked to brag a lot, and often pushed his men too far to gain political power.

The man was a fool, and Wales knew it. He would need that foolishness and pride as soon as the battle started. The prince closed his spyglass and turned to the helmsman.

'Mr. Mason, turn us 19 degrees starboard, if you please!' Wales shouted.

'They're gaining on us, sir!' a sailor shouted.

'Load the aft nine pounders!' Mr. Gray shouted.

The _Goodgrace _was fast. With every sail unfurled, it had reached a velocity of 10 knots. The Eagle, on the other hand, had only reached 8, but it was far more maneuverable. The ship started to turn, as the _Goodgrace _fell into range of the 9-pounders.

'Cannons loaded sir!' the master gunner told Mr. Gray.

'Fire!'

The cannons roared. Both lead balls hit the prow of the _Goodgrace, _making a wide hole.

'Reload! Reload!'

The battle had begun.

-:-

**Tristain, 10 days after the Summoning. **

'Remind me what we are doing here.' Ghathrax said, as soon as Louise and him crossed the gates into the city of Tristania, capital of the kingdom.

'I told you already. You can't protect your master if you are unarmed, so I'm going to buy a weapon for you.' Louise answered. 'Now let's go. The weapons store is over here.'

Tristain was an enormous city. Ghathrax and Louise had arrived soon after sunrise, so the city was still slowly waking up. The bakeries had just opened, the delicious scent of recently baked bread filling the air. Here and there, merchants were setting up their stalls, which displayed all kinds of items, ranging from worthless trinkets to valuable silks, spices, jewelry and magical objects from distant lands. Criers shouted the last news to the people who congregated around them, as peddlers sold their merchandise. Carts full of fish and vegetables made their way to the market.

The mage and the familiar soon came upon a small wooden building marked with two crossed swords.

'There it is. Open the door for me, will you?' Louise said.

'Open it yourself.' Ghathrax snorted.

Louise sighed. He was certainly powerful and intimidating, which was useful in a familiar, but his manners were terrible.

Once inside, the shopkeeper almost jumped out of his skin at the sight of Ghathrax. The Space Marine easily occupied half of the small store.

'Y-yes, my lord, my lady?' he stammered.

'I wish to buy a weapon for my familiar. Can you recomend one?' Louise told the merchant.

'Yes, my lady! Of course! If you could wait here just one moment, I think I have the perfect thing.' the man said, before dissapearing inside the back of the shop.

Ghathrax looked around. The weapons displayed on stands and shelves were incredibly primitive. Swords, spears, axes, knives... There was no way the shopkeeper would be able to find a weapon suitable for him. Besides, Louise didn't seem to realize he wasn't unarmed. She still thought the power fist wasn't a weapon, but some sort of magical armor.

But then, the shopkeeper came out of the back, dragging something behind him. Ghathrax thought it was a normal weapon, but then, his eyes widened at the sight of it. Maybe he was wrong about the shopkeeper's resources.

The handle was long and slender, covered in leather. The head, blood red and with a longitudinal opening, had hundreds of metal teeth coming out of it, which made it look like the bastard breeding of a chainsaw and an axe.

Ghathrax took the weapon with one hand, and activated it. Immediately, the axe whirred to life. Adamantium teeth began grinding into the air, as Ghathrax swung it to the right, and then to the left. Louise and the other man hit the deck to avoid being beheaded.

'I think I'll take it, master.' the Space Marine said, turning off the weapon, a shark smile under his helmet.

'What is that? How did you find it?' Louise asked the shopkeeper, as she got up and dusted herself.

The shopkeeper let a small smile come out, and said:

'I found that inside a cave last month, next to the body of a dead giant. Took me half a day to carry it back here.'

'It's a weapon from my world, master. It's a chainaxe.' Ghatrax interrupted.

'Chain...axe... Well, it doesn't really matter what it is.' Louise dismissed the matter with a flick of her hand before turning to the other man. 'How much for it?'

'Well, it's an exquisite weapon, most probably forged by a master craftsman...' he began, before being cut off by Ghathrax.

'It was assembled by a servitor in some Warp-forsaken shithole of a planet. Just answer the question and stop wasting our time.' the Berserker snarled.

'Yes, my lord! 800 new gold! As you see, it's a fair price!' the shopkeeper squeaked, cowering before the Chaos Space Marine.

_**Hey, what is that ruckus?**_

Everyone suddenly stopped talking.

'Is there someone else in here?' Louise asked.

'No! Of course not!' the shopkeeper exclaimed, trying to draw her attention.

_**Yes there is, you idiot! It's me, Derflinger! **_

'Shut up! Stop scaring off my clients!'

Ghathrax located the source of the voice. It was coming out of a barrel full of broken weapons. He slowly approached it, activating the chainaxe again.

'Who is Derflinger? Why would he scare off your clients?' Louise asked, a suspicious look in her eyes.

'Nobody, I assure you! We still have an agreement, don't we?' the man said, getting on his knees and grabbing Louise's cape. She tried to fend him off, an annoyed look in her eyes.

Ghathrax pulled an especially rusty sword out of the barrel and looked at it.

'What are you?' he asked.

_**My name is Derflinger, partner, I already told you! I'm a legendary sword. I have many powers, by the way. I can block magic, and I can take the form of any weapon you wish! **_

'Interesting. Try changing into an axe like this one here.' Ghathrax raised the chainaxe.

_**Of course! Watch. You're gonna love this. **_

The sword's handle suddenly became thicker, and longer. The cross guard shrank and disapeared, and the blade became bigger near the tip. Louise and the shopkeeper watched in amazement as the sword gradually changed shape until it became a perfect copy of the chainaxe.

'I think I want this one too' Ghathrax said.

Louise sighed.

'Alright, We'll take both. I'm willing to give you 1,400 new gold. Not a penny more.' she said, turning to the shopkeeper.

'1,600. Derflinger is a very valuable weapon, as you have just seen.'

'1480.'

'1520'

'Deal'

Louise took out her purse and put the money on the counter, before turning on her heels and exiting the shop. Ghathrax slung the chainaxes over his back, fixing them on the magnetic holders at either side of his power pack, and then followed her outside.

-:-

**Albion, somewhere off the coast of Westshire. **

'Hold fast, men! Hold! Courage now!'

After two hours of chasing the other warship, the _Goodgrace _had finally reached the _Eagle_ and was preparing to fire. Tension could be felt in the gun bays of the smaller frigate. The _Goodgrace _had maneuvered, and was now positioned at the _Eagle_'s starboard bow. Prince Wales heard the enemy captain shout:

'Larboard battery! Fire!'

'Down! All hands, down! Take cover!'

Every man on the _Eagle_'s deck hit the floor, as the _Goodgrace_'s cannons roared.

**BOOOOOMMM!**

Heavy lead balls 12 pounds each hit the _Eagle _with the force of a hurricane, tearing men to ribbons and creating gaping holes in the ship's hull. Sailors screamed, bled, and died. Wales could see a man get his leg blown off, his screams soon cut short by a hail of shrapnel from the enemy guns.

'Steady, boys! Steady!'

'Aaaaagh! Aaaaah!'

Prince Wales stood up on his feet and shouted:

'Starboard battery! Fire!'

The order was echoed by the master gunner and Mr. Gray.

'Fire!'

The _Eagle_'s guns roared in turn, making a deafening sound.

**KBAAAAAMMMM! **

Now it was the enemy's turn to scream as the hail of cannonballs shattered the second deck, while the royalist sharpshooters in the tops swept the main deck with musket fire. Dozens of rebels fell, and a few cannons were destroyed.

The two ships exchanged fire, trying to impose on one another, but the _Goodgrace _was too fast. The ship of the line soon bypassed the smaller frigate, and positioned herself in front of the _Eagle. _Another broadside struck home, blowing the _Eagle'_s prow to bits. More screams, more men died.

'Turn! Turn, goddamit! Mr. Mason!' Wales shouted, before noticing the helmsman was sitting on the deck, trying to get his intestines back inside.

The prince rushed over to the helm and turned the ship 45 degrees west to keep up with the _Goodgrace_.

'Load chained shot! Load chained shot!' Wales yelled to the top of his lungs. 'Mr. Gray, damage report, if you please!'

'We have twelve dead and thirty wounded, sir! The prow is destroyed, we have lost the secondary rudder and three cannons have been destroyed in the starboard battery!'

Below deck, the gunners tried to load their cannons, which proved difficult under enemy fire.

'Come on, you peasant dogs! Do you want to live forever!? Load!'

The _Eagle_'s gunners were well trained, and it took them less than a minute to load every cannon. The order came from the upper deck:

'Aim for the main mast! Aim for the main mast...! Aaaaaaagh!' the quartermaster screamed, before being torn to pieces by another broadside from the _Goodgrace_.

**B-BOOOOOOOMMMMM!**

'All guns, ready! Ignite fuse!'

The gunners applied a burning stick to the fuses at the end of the cannons' barrels, held their breath and covered their ears.

'Fire!'

**KBAAAAMMMMM! **

One after another, the iron guns fired, chained shot shredding the enemy ship's main mast and cleanly cutting lines. Some projectiles hit lower, and tore some men in two, decapitated others, and made a general mess of things.

'Reload! Reload! For Albion, and for the Prince!'

Wales could see the _Goodgrace_'s mast. It was wasted, and torn apart. One more broadside would bring it down.

'Come on, once more! We are so close! Keep going! Prepare hooks and boarding planks!'

The _Goodgrace_ fired again, ripping the _Eagle's_ starboard hull apart. An earth mage also launched an enormous rock against the windstone bay, but the reinforced oak planks resisted the asault.

The 11-pounders were now ready to fire again. The gunmen lit the fuses once more, and...

'Fire!'

**KBAAAAAAMMMMMM! **

The brutal roar of the cannons hit Wales's ears, as he saw two dozen projectiles hit the enemy's main mast in a rain of splinters and sawdust.

Everything fell silent for a few seconds. Then, with a loud creak, the mast began tipping over one side, and fell to the starboard bow of the _Goodgrace. _The lines that hadn't been cut by the hail of lead snapped, sounding like gunshots, and the great wooden post fell over the bow, dipping into the void.

A big cheer was then heard through the _Eagle._

Wales then shouted, unsheathing his sword and raising it over his head:

'Forward, men! Board her, and take her a prize! For King and country!'

'HUZZAH!'

The sailors cheered again, throwing hooks onto the enemy ship and bringing it closer.

As soon as the _Goodgrace _was close enough, Wales climbed over the railing and jumped over to the ship-of-the-line, almost slipping on the blood and the bodies that littered the deck.

A man tried to stab him with a knife, but the prince thrusted his sword into the sailor's chest. Then, raising it over his head, he shouted:

'_Windy Icicles!'_

Hundreds of small ice darts formed around him. Then, with a sudden jolt of energy, he directed them towards the enemy fighters at a terrifying speed, impaling several of them, and gravely wounding many more.

With a resounding war cry, the _Eagle_'s sailors followed their prince, swinging knives, swords, clubs, spears, pistols, muskets and boarding axes. They charged through a volley of musket fire which killed half a dozen men, to smash against the poorly prepared and shell-shocked defenders.

Mr. Gray located the enemy Earth mage, and blew his head off with a well placed shot from his trusty pistol, before drawing his sword and diving into the fray. His saber cut down two enemies before he pulled out his other pistol and shot a running gunner who was on fire.

Meanwhile, sharpshooters aloft both ships were engaged in a lethal duel, firing their muskets at each other, and jumping from sail to sail to finish off their enemies with knives and swords.

A thick cloud of smoke covered everything, making it difficult to see. The deck, slick and slippery because of the blood, made it impossible to fight well, and the melee turned into a mindless carnage, with sailors in both sides clubbing, stabbing, strangling and cutting each other with savagery and cruelty.

The smell of bodily fluids, gunpowder and human filth was overwhelming, and worse in the lower decks, yet the men kept fighting desperately, dying and killing by the dozens.

Then, without warning, the gunners aboard the _Eagle_ fired against the other ship at point-blank range, shredding the hull as if it was made of paper. The deafening roar was too much for the demoralised defenders of the _Goodgrace_, which turned face and rushed down the hatches to the lower decks. The royalist sailors pursued, screaming hoarse battle-cries.

Wales led the charge. As soon as he reached the middle deck, he skewered a gunner who tried to attack him with a large piece of wood, and sent another two flying backwards towards the others. Mr. Gray, who was at his side, had finished loading his pistols and fired them both against an officer who had a sword. The man's chest exploded, and he tumbled to the ground. The royalists swept the middle deck, killing any man who wasn't running or surrendering.

'The captain! Find the captain, and bring him to me!' Wales cried, before charging down the next hatch and into the lower deck. An officer tried to decapitate him with his sword, as another sailor attempted to disembowel him using an axe. The prince blocked the officer's attack, and kicked the sailor in the groin. The man slumped to the ground, while Wales pulled out his wand and shot a storm of flames into the officer's mouth. The officer shuddered, as a horrible scream came out of his throat moments before it was cut short by his windpipe melting over his glotis. The prince felt as if he'd been punched in the left shoulder, and fell face-first into the deck. He turned over, and saw a young shipboy with a smoking pistol. Without thinking, he waved his wand again, and a hail of wind blades tore the kid apart.

Screams filled the air as more royalists came down the ladder, and engaged the last rebels on the _Goodgrace_. The fight was fierce, and the rebels sold their skins dearly, but a few minutes later, there were none left on the ship. The battle had ended.

Mr. Gray helped Wales up. Then he saw his shoulder and said:

'My prince, you're hurt!'

'It's nothing' Wales groaned. 'Did you capture the captain?'

'Cowardly bastard took his own life. His body is inside the captain's quarters.

Wales nodded. Then everything seemed to get blurry.

'My prince?' asked. 'My prince!'

Wales felt everything go quiet and couldn't see, or hear or feel anything. Then, his eyes drifted shut, and the deck rushed to meet him.

-:-

**Soooo... cliffhanger! **

**Don't worry, guys. I'll post again shortly, in 2 or 3 days. I'd like to know how you think this story is going. Do you like it? Why? How would you make it better? Your reviews are always welcome.**

**By the way, I received a complaint regarding Ghathrax's Butcher's Nails being de-activated. I needed a way to make Ghathrax a little more _peaceful_ while not in combat, but worry not. Ghathrax is still a Berserker, and a faithful servant of Khorne. Once in battle, you'll see he will keep being everything you expect from a Khornate, MAIM BURN KILL! included. **


	5. Chapter 5: Acceptance

**Here I am again! You probably already noticed that I haven't included the Guiche fight. The reason is that neither Ghathrax has any interest in Guiche's and Montmorency's love life, nor Guiche has any intention of picking a fight with the biggest and most violent looking of all the familiars. **

**Well, on to the story! Read, review and, if you like it, drop a fav. Enjoy!**

-:-

Ghathrax was training in the yard, when he heard Louise approach him. She watched for a minute, as the Space Marine executed a dozen flawless moves, perfected by millennia of endless war. The twin chainaxes cut the air at an amazing speed, parrying, swinging and slashing at imaginary enemies.

Without stopping, Ghathrax asked:

'Yes, master?'

'The Familiar Exhibition will be tomorrow. We need to think of something to impress the others so we can win the contest.' Louise said, rather surprised that Ghathrax had noticed her at all.

'I don't have time for petty contests and exhibitions. I'm not an animal, puny mortal. I only do your bidding because my gods command me to.' Ghathrax replied calmly, stopping his training. He didn't put the axes away.

'But we have to! It's mandatory for all second-years! Even the Princess will be there!' Louise said, suddenly terrified that her familiar wouldn't comply, and she'd be the laughing stock of the entire academy. She could almost hear them:

"_Look, Louise is screwing up yet again! Not even her familiar will obey her! Hahahaha!"_

It wasn't her fault not to be able to cast any spell properly! If only her magical attempts didn't all end in violent explosions...

'What princess?' Ghathrax asked, turning around and slinging his weapons over his back before bowing and taking his power fist from the ground, where he had left it.

'W-what do you mean, "what princess"? Princess Henrietta of Tristain, of course!'

'Tristain. Is that the name of this world?' Ghathrax asked.

'No, it's the name of our kingdom. There are four great kingdoms in Halkeginia: Tristain, Gallia, Germania and Albion. There are other, less important kingdoms, like Aragona, Sahara, Nordia... but they all have something in common, except Sahara and Nordia: they are overseen by the Great Papal States of Romalia, holder of the throne of the Holy Pope of Romalia.'

'And this Pope, he is like the planetary governor?'

'Planeta-what? You mean, like the Emperor of Halkeginia? Founder, no! He's our spiritual leader. He guides the Faith, and makes sure there are no heretics threatening the well-being of good, God-fearful people.'

'Heh. Sounds a bit like my universe.' Ghathrax snorted, and walked away.

Louise ran behind him.

'Hey! What do you think you're doing? We're not done yet! Have you thought of anything for the exhibition?'

'I already told you. I'm not doing it. I'm not a dog to be shown off.' Ghathrax answered, walking in long strides towards the kitchens. Something had just crossed his mind, something that might help him with his task in this world.

Louise had trouble keeping up with the Chaos Space Marine, but she managed to run and shout at the same time:

'Please! You don't have to do anything flashy, just wave your axes about and impress the Princess! Why is that so hard?'

Ghathrax suddenly stopped, and Louise bumped into him, falling to the ground. He turned around.

'You just want to be acknowledged by this "princess", don't you? Let me guess. She's your childhood friend, isn't she? You grew up under her shadow, while she took all the merit and the affection. I bet you're even bullied, am I right?'

'H-huh? W-what are you-?' Louise stammered, sitting on the grass.

'Is that why you can't even cast a spell properly? Yes, I can see your little explosions every time you use that abominable sorcery.' Ghathrax continued, mercilessly. 'Your family probably is dissappointed in you because you can't do magic, so they sent you here. But if you could only show that your familiar is a demigod from beyond the stars who could kill them all and bathe in their blood, then you'd get the respect you yearn for... is that it?'

Louise felt her eyes watering. Why did he have to be so cruel?

'Yes!' she shouted, while tears streamed down her face. 'Is that what you wanted to hear? My classmates bully me, my family hates me, and now my only friend is going to be a queen, while I have to stay here, without being able to cast even the simplest of spells! I hate my life! If only I had never been born...!'

Ghathrax's facial plate came so close to her eyes that she blinked, interrupting herself.

'You've never seen real hate and despair. Do you want to know how it feels to betray your own brothers? To eat their hearts and drink their blood, while following the commands of a madman, who turned you into another madman? I serve the God of Blood, but to do that I had to kill, and burn, and loot under orders from my primarch. I don't see a problem with it. It's the path I chose. But you can't choose anything, unless you take the reigns of your life. Stop depending on others, and become REAL, or the world will eat you, and spit your bones.' he said, before pulling back, turning around and leaving. Before he was too far, he added something. 'Bring something big to the exhibition, and I will kill it. Nothing more.'

Louise stopped crying. She wiped her tears, and got up. She was still sniffing, though. Ghathrax had been blunt, and cruel, but he was right. She was trying to depend on her familiar to impress people, but it was her that should do that. Otherwise, they wouldn't be impressed by her own actions, but her familiar's.

'Wow, that was quite an earful.' said a voice behind her.

Louise turned, to see a red-haired beauty with tanned skin and an impressive cleavage, accompanied by a small, quiet, blue-haired girl who was reading.

'Kirche, Tabitha! Did you just hear that?' she said, trying to wipe off the last of her tears.

'I'd have to be deaf, to not hear you. Even the elves must have heard that scolding. I wonder what kind of man hides under that suit of armor...'

'Shut up, Zerbst! He's my familiar! Besides, I don't think he swings that way... or any way for that matter...'

'Have you ever tried asking?' Kirche said, casually.

Louise reddened.

'Of course not! Who do you think I am, a devious Germanian from the East? Go back to your horde of lovers and boot-lickers!' she shouted, before turning around and running towards the kitchens.

'Geez, what did I say?' Kirche laughed.

Tabitha didn't answer.

Ghathrax was already inside the kitchens when Louise arrived. She could hear one of the chefs talking to him:

'...by name, it means their services can be bought. And by services, I mean...'

'Yes, yes, I get the picture, mortal. Who is this Count Mott?' Ghathrax asked.

'He's the royal messenger. He pays certain taxes and provides certain services to the Crown, mainly carrying messages for the other nobles, so he's exempt of military service. He has a powerful guard, though. I heard his mansion is protected by royal lancers and winged mastiffs.' the chef answered.

'And where is his mansion?' Ghathrax asked.

'It's a day's ride due east, by the riverside. I wouldn't reccomend you to go there, though. Count Mott won't suffer commoners to come to his presence without being ordered to.'

'He will suffer me.' Ghathrax promised, before turning around and leaving.

Louise followed him, asking:

'What are you planning to do on Count Mott's estate? You can't just barge into a noble's house, you know.

'_Count Mott_,' Ghathrax spat, 'took the maid from the other day for his personal leisure. I need her. So I will... _convince_ him to give her back to me. I'll be back by tomorrow morning. I expect you will have found something big for me to kill at the exhibition.' he said, before his long strides turned into a full run. He soon disappeared from sight.

Louise was left on the yard, asking herself what he meant with "convincing" Count Mott. She shuddered at the most probable answer.

-:-

Ghathrax arrived at the Mott Estate when the sun had almost dissapeared under the horizon. He'd been running the entire day. If he ran at top speed, Ghathrax could easily outrun a horse, so he'd been able to reach the estate just before nightfall.

The guards at the estate were unpleasantly surprised when a seven-feet tall armor-clad warrior entered the mansion without even opening the doors. He just kicked them in and advanced. All attempts to stop him failed, as the guards' spears just broke whenever they tried to use them against the Space Marine.

Count Mott was just enjoying his dinner at that moment. The enormous Berserker barged into the dining hall, and finally stopped in front of the Count, who immediately got up and shielded himself behind his guards.

'W-who are you? What do you want?' the Count asked, clearly shitting his pants at the appearance of the Chaos Space Marine.

'I am Ghathrax Crimsonfist, of the World Eaters, familiar of Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière. You acquired a maid at the Tristain Academy of Magic. Give her to me.' the warrior demanded.

'Who, Siesta? But what do you want her for? Did your master send you?' Mott asked, regaining composure.

'My master didn't send me. I came of my own accord. I don't need to justify myself to you, mortal. Do you have the maid, or not?' Ghathrax said.

'I most certainly will not give you that maid. I bought her. She's mine now. Why do I have to do what a lowly commoner as yourself says? Guards!'

The guards didn't move. Instead, they looked at each other. They looked at the Count.

'Come on! Arrest this commoner, behead him, and display his body at the front gate, for everyone to see!' Mott ordered.

Ghathrax then advanced a step, and the guards scattered, leaving their weapons and their lord behind. The Berserker then grabbed Mott by the neck, and pulled him closer, until the Count was looking directly at Ghathrax's facial plate.

'You're a noble. You must be accustomed to being in charge of things. Am I right?' Ghathrax said, in a growl.

Mott didn't make a sound. He just nodded rapidly.

'Do you _feel_ in charge now? Come on, mortal. Tell me to do something.'

Mott was on the verge of pissing his pants. He just stayed quiet, as the Berserker loomed over him.

'I'll tell you why you should do what I say.' Ghathrax continued. 'It's very simple, really: if you don't do what I told you to do, I'll rip your insides out and make you eat them. Am I absolutely clear?'

Mott managed to hold his sphyncters as he nodded again, terror painted in his face.

'Good' Ghathrax said, letting him go. 'And by the way... you would do well not to speak of this to anyone, ever. Same goes to your men.'

-:-

**The same night, Louise's room.**

Louise was almost asleep when she heard a knock on the door. She jumped out of her bed, and rushed to open the door. Her hand stopped an inch away of the doorknob though. It couldn't be Ghathrax, because he'd said he would be back in the morning, so who could it be?

Louise opened the door cautiously, saw a hooded figure in the threshold, and for a moment she reached for her wand, not realising it was still on her nightstand. The hooded person pounced on her, hugging her and making them both fall to the ground.

'Louise, my dear friend!'

"Friend?" Louise thought. Then, the stranger's hood of the fell off, revealing a very familiar face...

'Princess Henrietta! What are you doing here? H-how? When?' she said, half smothered.

The other girl got up, and helped her get on her feet too. The princess was Louise's age, with short purple hair, and a bust that had nothing to envy of Kirche's. She wore a simple white and blue dress, and a brown cape with a hood, which covered her to protect her identity.

'I came last night, anonymously. We didn't want to encourage anyone to try anything... especially Fouquet.' the Princess told Louise, with a smile.

'Fouquet? The famous thief and mercenary?' Louise asked.

Henrietta nodded.

'Word is she's after the Staff of Destruction, which is why I came in person to warn Old Osmond, the director of the Academy, before the Exhibition. I know my arrival will cause a lot of trouble, and it would be the perfect time for attempting to steal it from the Academy's Vault.' she said. 'Anyways, word has reached my ears that you summoned quite the peculiar familiar. Is there truth in this?'

Louise looked down.

'He's very powerful, but he scares me sometimes. He's also very unruly, and won't accept most of what I tell him to do.' she said, in a low voice.

'Hey, don't worry. I'm sure that whoever "he" is, he will come to accept you. He still doesn't know you like I do.' Henrietta said, hugging Louise again. 'You have a hidden talent, and it'll come to the light when you least expect it. You just need to have confidence in yourself.'

'Thanks, Princess.' Louise said, putting her arms around the other girl.

'Well, I have to leave. Sorry I can't stay longer, but my bodyguards will worry if I take too long.' the Princess said, breaking the hug and putting on the hood again. 'I may require your services soon, Louise, and your familiar's too. Stay put.'

'I will. Thanks for coming to see me, Princess.' Louise said.

'My pleasure, Louise. I'll see you tomorrow at the exhibition. Do your best, okay?' Henrietta said, before leaving.

-:-

**The following day, at the Exhibition.**

Louise was very worried. It was almost her turn to perform, and Ghathrax hadn't come back yet. She'd been able to convince Guiche, one of her classmates, to summon a greater golem for Ghathrax to fight. Still, if he didn't return, there wouldn't be a fight, and Louise would be laughed at yet again.

On the stage, which had been set up in the gardens because of the sunny, beautiful day, the students showed off their familiars in front of a multitude formed by first and third-years, nobles, rich commoners and Princess Henrietta herself.

Kirche and her salamander danced through rings of fire. Another girl, Montmorency, played the violin while her frog jumped around. Guiche, being pompous and arrogant but handsome, just posed with his mole in a bed of roses, letting his blond locks and lean body do the work for him. Another boy, called Maricorne, did magic tricks with his owl. But everyone paled in comparison with Tabitha and her blue rhyme dragon. They soared through the air with grace and style, leaving everyone with their jaws dropped.

Then, Mr. Colbert called Louise.

'Have you seen my familiar anywhere, Guiche? It's time already!' she whispered to the young earth mage standing next to her.

'No idea, Louise. Maybe he ran off?' Guiche laughed.

'Shut up...' she grumbled.

'Louise Françoise, le Blanc de la Vallière, come to the stage, please!' Proffessor Colbert called again.

'Coming!' Louise shouted.

She walked up to the stage. Professor Colbert looked at her.

'Where is your familiar, Louise?' he asked her.

Everyone started to laugh at her. Louise's familiar had run off! Not even he wanted to be near her!

'Um... well, you see... he's...'

**KABOOOOOM!**

The explosion rattled the very stones of the Academy. Everyone turned their heads to the main tower, from which a large plume of smoke was coming out.

'What's happening?'

'It's an explosion! It destroyed the Vault's walls!'

'Protect the Princess! Protect the Princess! Musketeer squadron, with me!'

'Look, a golem! It's Foquet!'

Indeed, an enormous dirt golem had appeared near the tower. It was so big, that it was easily taller than the tower itself. On it's shoulder, a form could be seen, clearly feminine, and clad in a cape and hood. Fouquet the Crumbling Dirt had joined the party.

Louise ran towards the Golem, followed by Tabitha and most of the Academy's staff. Louise thought:

"If I take down Fouquet, I'll be a hero. No one will laugh at me ever again! I can do this!"

She stopped in front of the gargantuan golem. It seemed smaller in the distance. She tried to cast Fireball, but all that came out was a useless explosion. The blast hit the dirt golem right in the chest, but the thing barely even tumbled.

Fouquet, carrying something that looked like a box between her arms, laughed.

'Is that the best you can do, child? No wonder everyone was making fun of you. You're pathetic.'

Louise reddened at the insult.

She lifted her wand, ready to wipe the smile off of Fouquet's face, but the golem swept her off her feet with its fist. Louise landed hard on the ground, her breath leaving her on impact. Her vision blurred. Groggy, she could only watch as the golem lifted its foot to crush her. But then, she heard something else. A shout. It was a warcry, a scream of endless rage and lust for battle, which would echo through Halkeginia from that day on, marking the continent's history forever:

'BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!'

Both Fouquet and the golem looked around, trying to determine the source of the cry. They never saw it coming. A red figure clad in ancient armor who was wielding two whirring chainaxes had climbed over the walls of the Academy and had lauched itself against the dirt golem, hitting it with the force of a hurricane.

'SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!'

Ghathrax Crimsonfist's axes bit deep into the golem's thorax, leaving him hanging over the place where it's sternum would be. Using the left axe to keep himself clinging onto the golem, the Berserker used Derflinger to cut off the hand the thing tried to use to grab him. Then, he did the same with the other hand, and the golem was left defenseless. The Chaos Space Marine climbed over the construct's breast, intent on murdering Fouquet. She tried to fend him off, hitting Ghathrax repeatedly with a rock she conjured using her wand, but it didn't seem to affect him.

She tried to attack him with Wind Blades, but they dissipated against a reddish glow on the Berserker's armor. Little did she know that she was witnessing first-hand something that had never been seen in Halkeginia before. The Blessing of Khorne. The Blessing guaranteed that the receiver would never be hurt by sorcery or psychic powers, something Khorne and all his followers hated.

Ghathrax grabbed Fouquet by her leg, and threw her off the golem. She screamed as she fell fifty meters to the ground, letting go of the box she had been holding, and her wand.

Without even looking at Fouquet, Ghathrax climbed onto the golem's head. He slung the left axe, and used his power fist to punch repeatedly through the rocky crust, opening a hole into it that got bigger with every strike, as he yelled:

'KILL, MAIM, BURN! KILL, MAIM, BURN! KILL, MAIM, BURN!

The golem's head looked like a crater by the time it stopped moving. Ghathrax jumped off, and landed on the grass with a loud THUMP, before the construct crumbled to clots of dirt.

Louise tried to get up, but she felt something dripping off her head, and a blinding pain on her wrist, so she stayed down on the ground. Ghathrax approached her, as everyone else looked in amazement at the pile of dirt and rubble that once was the golem.

'Wow, did you see that?'

'Was that Zero Louise's familiar?'

'He sure made a mess of that thing...'

Ghathrax kneeled before Louise, and spoke:

'You have a concussion, and your wrist is fractured. Also, your right femoral artery is punctured. Don't move, or talk.'

'Make way, please! Make way! We have an injured student!'

Professor Colbert made his way through the crowd, and kneeled next to Louise. He placed his hands on her head and wrist and began chanting in a strange tongue Ghathrax did not understand. Immediately, Louise's head stopped bleeding, and her left wrist, which was twisted in an odd way, righted itself and healed.

Louise let out a small sigh of relief and fainted right afterwards. Ghathrax picked her up.

'I'll take her to her room.' he said, but before he could reach the main tower, the Princess intercepted him.

'Mr. Familiar! Wait a moment please! May I have a word?'

'Make it quick, mortal.' Ghathrax replied.

The captain of the Royal Musketeers shouted:

'How dare you speak to the princess in such a manner?!'

'It's okay, Agnes. Please, calm down.' Henrietta said.

'Yes, your Highness.' the woman replied, shooting a death glare at Ghathrax, who didn't even acknowledge her presence.

'You ARE Louise's familiar, aren't you? I only wanted to thank you for saving Louise's life. May I ask your name?' Henrietta said, with a smile.

'I didn't do it for you. Or her, for that matter. My god commanded me to protect her from harm, so that's what I will do. I don't see how my name would be of interest to you, but I'll tell you anyways. I'm Ghathrax Crimsonfist, of the World Eaters. And yes, I am her familiar. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have matters to attend to.' Ghathrax said. He then turned away, and continued walking.

**Albion, unknown location on Rosefield Forest. **

Lord Cromwell, Dictator of the Holy Albion Republic, was inside a secret cave in the Rosefield Forest, waiting for the man who would make his plans a reality. The war had almost ended. Only a small Royalist reduct remained in the fortress of Newcastle, and there were also some rumours of a deadly rogue corsair ship under orders from Prince Wales himself roaming the skies between Westfield and Losailes.

They weren't a problem. If he played his cards well, and his contact was successful, he would kill both birds in one shot, and then he would be able to turn his attention to the real objective, which was the destruction of the monarchies of all Halkeginia, and the dismissal of the Pope of Romalia. Then, the entire continent would be under the rule of Reconquista, and he would have been the architect of it all!

Then, a woman appeared on the entrance of the cave. She had long, black hair, and her skin was sickly pale in the places that her leather outfit left to sight.

'Lord Cromwell, your contact is here.' she said, in a low, seductive purr.

'Excellent. Let him in, Myoznitnirn.' Cromwell said.

A figure came into the cave. He was cloaked and hooded, so Cromwell couldn't distinguish his features very well. Still, he knew the man's identity, so disguising seemed unnecesary at that time.

'Fouquet has failed to acquire the Staff, Cromwell. I'll have to prepare plan B. We need to neutralize the girl and her familiar.'

'As soon as you have done it, take out Prince Wales, before my forces launch the final assault on Newcastle. Also, do whatever you can to retrieve what we talked about last time. They are vital. And one more thing. They must never be able to get their hands on Wales's ring. If they do, don't hesitate in destroying it... and them with it.' Cromwell said. 'At last, the hated royalty will be erased. A new era will dawn, with Reconquista at the head of Halkeginia! Long live Reconquista!'

Both men laughed out loud, rejoicing in their imminent victory. Meanwhile, the woman outside smiled like a shark. Everything was going as planned. Her master would be proud.

**DUN DUN DUN!**

**Well, it's not much of a cliffhanger, because you all already know how everything plays out, more or less. **

**By the way, I hope the people who were waiting for a MAIMBURNKILL moment were satisfied with the one happening in this chapter. If you're not, well... suck it up! There will be many more for me to write, so there is a lot of room for me to improve too! (Please, help me. I know I'm not perfect, if you know of a way to make the story better, do tell. It's better to share your opinion than to keep it to yourself.)**

**See you in 2-3 days! :D**


	6. Chapter 6: The first mission

**So, I'm back! **

**Thank you guys for your reviews, as always. I must say, I felt weak for a few hours after writing chapter 5, and thought of dividing the story into arcs: first arc would be the first season of the anime, the second arc would be the second, etc. But in the end, I decided against it, because I think those kinds of things are just an excuse to be lazy. **

**Also, it's time for another disclaimer:**

**It would be ridiculous to think that I would claim copyright over Zero no Tsukaima or Warhammer 40,000. All rights go to their respective owners. **

**Well, enjoy!**

-:-

Wales woke up in his hammock in the infirmary. The lighting was dim, as it was lit only by a few lamps, and it was nighttime outside. He blinked for a few seconds, and then tried to get up, but a blinding pain in his left shoulder prevented him from doing so. Wales lifted his right hand instead and lightly touched the bullet wound in his bandaged shoulder.

'I wouldn't move that, if I were you. I heard the physician say that the bone is broken. Almost had to cut your arm off.' a voice said, coming from his right.

Wales turned, and saw a young sailor, also lying inside a hammock. Although Wales couldn't see very well because of the poor visibility, it was quite obvious that the right half of the boy's face was gone, and completely bandaged, and one of his hands was missing too. His hair was blond and short, and he was very tanned. Probably worked on the top sails, judging from his callous left hand and feet.

The boy noticed Wales looking at his gruesome wounds, and let out a bitter smile.

'A cannonball did that. Hit the hull next to where I was standing, tore my hand off and made me all the less pretty with the shrapnel it released. I will never be able to climb the sails again. What about you?' the sailor said.

Wales shifted inside the hammock to face him.

'I caught a bullet in the boarding. No big deal, really, but it hurts like hell.' Wales answered.

'Hm. Bad luck, I guess. Name's Jack, by the way.' the boy said, holding out his hand.

Wales groaned a bit as he stretched his own hand out to shake Jack's.

'Pleased to meet you, Jack. How long was I out?' he asked.

Jack shrugged.

'Not too long, I guess. I was brought here after you were, so it must have been two, maye three days.'

'Thought as much.' Wales said.

They laid down in silence for a few minutes. Wales then began to rummage through his pockets. After a few seconds, he found what he was looking for and brought it out. It was a small silver cameo, with an image of carved ivory on its surface. The image depicted a young girl, not yet out of her teens. Her hair was short, and whe wore a tiara on her head.

'She's beautiful. What is her name?' Jack asked, looking at the image over Wales's arm.

A sad smile appeared on the prince's face.

'Henrietta. Her name is Henrietta.' he answered, lightly caressing the cameo with his fingers.

'Oh? Is she Gallian?' Jack asked.

'Tristainian.' Wales said.

'Wait a second. Isn't there a Tristainian noble called Henrietta too?' the other boy asked.

'Yes.' Wales answered, with a sigh. 'Yes, there is. Damn, how I miss her...'

'Well, I wish you luck. Not that it'll be of any use, though.' Jack said, with a flick of his stump.

'What about you, Jack? Do you have a sweetheart back home?' Wales asked, turning his head in the sailor's direction.

'Me? Naah. I'm kind of a lone wolf.' he answered. 'I'm saving myself for the perfect one, you know what I mean?'

Wales nodded.

'Well, if life ever taught me something, it's that there is always someone out there who completes you. We are all connected by bonds, bonds of love, bonds of hatred, bonds of friendship. Everything else is secondary.' Wales said.

'You know, I like that way of seeing things.' Jack said, with a smile.

-:-

**Royal Palace of Tristania, Kingdom of Tristain, three days after the Fouquet incident.**

Louise still felt weak from the injuries she'd suffered during the fight against Fouquet, even though she'd been taken care of by some of the best water mages in Tristain. Her head hurt sometimes, and she still needed a walking stick because of the deep wound in her leg, which was now half-healed and concealed under her skirt.

Louise was kneeling before princess Henrietta in the throne room. Ghathrax, who had refused to do the same, was standing behind her. Around them stood the Royal Musketeer Corps. Agnes, their leader, scowled at Ghathrax, seething in anger at his lack of respect for the princess. The enormous berserker didn't seem to understand the rules of the Halkeginian society, but that was alright. He would have time to learn, Louise thought.

As they all stood or knelt at the well-lit hall, Henrietta spoke:

'Please, rise, my friend. I have granted you the title of Chevalier, which makes us the same.' the princess said, in a soft voice.

'No, Your Highness! I can't stand as your equal. I'm not worthy of it!' Louise said, blushing.

'Nonsense, Louise Françoise. You've been like a sister to me for years. Please, stand up. I need your help with a very urgent matter.' Henrietta said. She looked nervous. Her eyes went from master to familiar, as she wringed her hands in concern.

Louise rose, a determined look in her eyes.

'Anything for you, Your Highness. Command me, and I will do your bidding.'

'Do not speak of this to anyone. Whatever is spoken of inside this room must never leave the walls of this castle. Understood?' Henrietta said.

Louise nodded. Ghathrax, however, didn't say a word, nor did he move. He just stood silently behind Louise, his arms crossed in front of him. He was also the only one in the room to be armed, besides the Royal Musketeers, merely because no guard had been able to separate him from his weapons, nor deny him entrance to the throne room.

Henrietta signalled for Agnes to start the briefing.

'Well, the problem is as follows. There have been some gruesome murders lately, mostly between the richest and most powerful in Tristania and the areas surrounding the Academy of Magic. The bodies appear decapitated and savagely mutilated. The heads are always taken, and on many occasions we have found symbols painted on the walls and the ground with what appears to be the blood of the victims.' the woman explained.

'So it's a serial killer.' Louise ventured.

'I doubt it. Some of the bodies have been found miles apart from each other, and several witnesses have claimed to have seen attacks at around the same time another murder happened. This suggests there isn't just one killer. There are probably multiple murderers, acting at the same time.' Agnes said.

'That is so strange...' Louise said, her voice lowering. 'You want Ghathrax and me to catch the killers, Princess?'

'I want it to be smooth and discreet, Louise. Since my father died, my mother has been having trouble keeping the country together. If the matter gets out of hand, we could have riots and turmoil within weeks, and it would be extremely easy for it to become a full-fledged rebellion.' Henrietta said, concern etched on her face.

'You can count on us, Your Highness. I will not disappoint you, I swear it on my life.' Louise said, placing a closed fist next to her heart.

'Here. This document has the Royal Seal, and it will give you special powers. You will have full authority. Agnes will accompany you to supervise your work in my name. I hope you will find the killers swiftly and end this matter once and for all.' the Princess said, handing Louise a roll of paper closed with the Seal of the House of Tristain.

Louise took the document and bowed.

'Let's go, familiar. We have work to do.' she said, turning to leave the throne room, with Agnes following close behind her.

Ghathrax finally moved, still not speaking a word. His armor whirred to life, as he quickly kept pace with the small girl and the Musketeer Captain.

-:-

Wales and Jack spent the three following days killing their boredom by talking. They talked about home, about the war, about philosophy, about history, about literature, anything to keep their minds occupied.

It turned out that Jack was a dot Fire mage, being the fifth son of an influential noble back in Albion, one General O'Conor, so he was well educated, though his magical skills weren't very good. His father had sent him to serve a while in the Eagle so he would see the world, and become a self-made man. Jack had learned to fence, to shoot, to ride a horse and many other things. But the thing he liked most was to climb, which explained why he only worked on the top sails.

Then, the war started. Jack's eldest brother fell at Lexington. His sister and another one of his brothers were killed at the Siege of Galatha. The last of his brothers died in an ambush set by rebels near Saxe-Gotha. Then, his mother was also killed when Londinium fell and the rebels sacked and burned the city. Finally, his own father led the last Royalist army to Black Hill, where he would die with an arrow through the neck. Jack was now the last of the O'Conors.

A few days after their first conversation, both Wales and Jack were healed enough to be able to walk around, and their friendship soon became noticeable. Jack earned the name Black Jack because of his black leather eye patch, and because the scars on the right side of his face were colored black due to the gunpowder that had entered the wounds when the boy was hit by white hot shrapnel during the battle against the _Goodgrace_. His right hand was substituted by an iron hook fixed to his wrist with some leather bands.

Nobody was really surprised by Jack's condition. Many of the sailors aboard the _Eagle_ had suffered equally horrible wounds, and some had it even worse. One of the sailors was blind. He was a disgraced noble, and a line Wind and Fire mage. It was said that the wind talked to him and helped him orientate, as if it was some kind of radar. His name was Edward White, and he fought as well now as he did in the days before he was hit in the face by a windblade from an enemy mage.

There were many other remarkable men aboard the _Eagle_. Bjorn Larsson, an enormous corsair from Nordia, had once survived for a week hanging from a gibbet under a cloud _drakkar_ feeding off raw gulls and mould from the ship's hull. Robert Goulding had been a crusader, and while he was fighting in Sahara against the elves, he and 50 other knights had routed an army of 900 elvish light cavalry. Hinji Mamuri had come from the far East, beyond the land of Rub. He was a master swordsman, but in the 30 years he had served aboard the _Eagle_, he hadn't spoken a word. Mr. Gray, Wales's First Mate, had been a soldier and a mercenary for so long that he was the only man aboard the ship that could claim to have killed a warrior of every race or nationality in Halkeginia.

Every soldier, sailor, gunner and knight aboard the _Eagle _had fought and bled for years under Wales's command, and some had fought even longer, under command from other captains. For these men, loyalty and honor were a form of life. They would fight, and kill, and die if necessary. Every once in a while, an upstart kid with delusions of grandeur tried to make them see that there was nothing truly worth dying for. They usually didn't last much. As long as a member of the Tudor family drew breath, the warriors of the _Eagle_ would fight for them. And if the last Tudor was ever killed, it would be over their own dead bodies.

-:-

**Sorry that this chapter is so short and rushed. I'm suffering from writer's block. I'm confident I'll be able to get through it and post a proper chapter around tomorrow night. **


	7. Chapter 7: Death Cult

**Okay, here is Chapter 7, as promised. **

**I've received a number of PM's asking when exactly am I going to include romances and, I must say, I don't really know. It'll probably be around the time between Wardes's betrayal and the Battle of Tarbes. Oh boy, are you in for a treat in that battle... I'm preparing something really epic, that's for sure. **

**Anyways, on with the story!**

-:-

**Forest of Mésnil, Tristain, 80 miles from Tarbes. 1st night of investigation. **

Louise and Agnes were lost. They'd taken a shortcut through Mésnil, following the trail left by one of the alleged killers, but the darkness of the night had come sooner than they expected, making them deviate from their route.

'It's all your fault. We should've brought Ghathrax with us.' Louise accused Agnes, trying to make her horse stop panicking at every little noise.

'How is it my fault? Your familiar almost killed the first witness we came across, when he refused to speak to us. He probably would've killed the murderers when we found them too, maybe even before we had the chance to interrogate them, for Brimir's sake!' Agnes replied, clearly irritated.

'Well, maybe the murderers deserve to be killed without even being heard out. Besides, the so-called "witness" didn't see the actual murder. He only saw the body being dumped by some hooded man.' Louise replied.

Agnes stopped her horse and turned around. She could barely see Louise in the blackness.

'The Princess asked us to arrest them, not kill them. They must face a fair trial, even if they are sick, deranged human beings. And if I recall correctly, it was that same witness the one who followed the hooded man to the village we now can't find because _you_ decided to take a shortcut!' the woman replied.

'The Princess asked us to end the matter, and that's what we're going to do. Ghathrax would agree with me.' Louise said.

'You seem to hold much esteem to what your familiar would say or do. Are you sure you understand who is the servant and who is the master?'

Louise reddened. She was about to reply some pretty nasty things when suddenly Agnes suddenly looked over the mage's shoulder and pointed at something with her finger. Louise turned, and saw a dozen figures with torches walking through the woods. Louise and Agnes quickly and silently tied their horses and followed them on foot, trying not to make a sound.

The strangers looked like commoners. At least two of them were soldiers, seeing as they were carrying spears and wore chainmail. The rest looked like farmers and lower-class merchants.

Agnes signalled for Louise to stop as they reached a clearing lit by bonfires. Hundreds of small tents and huts covered the entire place. There also seemed to be many men, women and children between the fabric structures. They were all eating, laughing, sleeping, walking, making love and constructing and sharpening weapons.

Louise and Agnes hid between the bushes before taking another look.

'What the hell is this? Who are these people? Do you think they're somehow connected to the murders?' Louise asked, in a whisper.

'I don't think so. Look, there are soldiers between them. I think we should warn the Princess about this. They are probably rebels, traitors and deserters. In my opinion, this is why there were other people disappearing from the villages and cities.' Agnes answered.

'Impossible. Look. The soldiers still wear their insignias and the coat of arms of the Tristainian Royal Family.' Louise said. 'Besides, they're too few to be a rebel army. There can't be more than a few hundred, maybe a thousand of them.'

'You're right. But, if they aren't rebels, then what are they? Look, they even have banners and flags.' Agnes pointed out. The so-called banners and flags were really no more than rags with symbols painted with red and black paint.

Suddenly, a scream came out of the largest tent. Many people gathered around its entrance, as a man was dragged out of it, kicking and thrashing. A big shout came from the ranks of the people. Hate could be seen in their faces as they spat and threw rocks at the man. He was well dressed, in rich clothing made of silk and real fur. He wore jewels on his fingers and around his neck. It was obvious he was a noble.

As he as dragged towards the center of the encampent, he yelled:

'The Queen shall have you all hanged for this, vulgar peasants! Unhand me this instant!'

'Murderer!'

'Rapist!'

'Thief!'

Louise was about to raise her wand, but Agnes stopped her hand with her own.

'Wait. They're too many. They'd kill us both.'

The aristocrat had been dragged to a great rock in the center of the camp. It was completely drenched with blood. But the creepiest of it all was the pile of human skulls that laid next to the rock. The skulls, immaculately white, had been set up in a pyramidal shape. Only one space in the pyramid was left empty, right at the top.

The noble was made to kneel down over the rock, and was held in place by five strong men. Then, another one stood near him, and spoke to the crowd.

'This so-called aristocrat, this animal, this _piece of trash_, mercilessly extorted the people in his fiefdom, even when they had nothing left to give! He forced dozens to exile or starvation, and issued harsh punishments to those who dared defy his authority! He stole brides from their own weddings and forced them to surrender to his unending and depraved lust, executing those who refused, and beheading any man who opposed his wishes! But now, we make justice! Now, we make him _pay_!'

The multitude shouted and screamed for the noble's blood. Then, an enormous figure appeared at the main tent's entrance. It was Ghathrax. He was followed by a young, black-haired girl, whom Louise recognized instantly. It was Siesta. She was wearing a crimson dress, and a blood-red aura glowed around her.

Louise muffled an exclamation of surprise. So it had been her familiar all along? He had killed those people, with help from these rebels, and dumped their bodies on different locations around the Academy and the capital?

Louise kept looking, horrified at what she suspected would happen next.

Ghathrax approached the kneeling man and unslung Derflinger. He raised the chainaxe towards the sky.

'BLOOD!' he bellowed.

'FOR THE BLOOD GOD!' the crowd bellowed back.

'SKULLS!'

'FOR THE SKULL THRONE!'

'SOULS!'

'FOR THE SOUL EATER!'

And with that last shout, the axe came down. The aristocrat's head rolled to the floor as a spray of blood came from his severed neck. The multitude roared in approval.

Ghathrax came down from the rock and picked the head up. Ghathrax gave the head to Siesta, who raised it towards the sky. Something unnatural happened then. The air seemed to vibrate with contained energy, as the defunct noble's lifeless eyes looked upon the stars. Suddenly, a flame erupted from the head's eyeballs, quickly expanding and consuming the flesh until only the skull remained.

Ghathrax took the skull from Siesta's hands and walked over to the pyramid. The crowd now held a respectful silence as the Chaos Space Marine reverently placed the skull on its place on the top, and completed the macabre monument.

The man from before then shouted, as he raised his fists:

'It is done! Finally, we have done justice, and this land is purified from the corrupt and the evil! All glory to the True God Khorne! All glory to the Red Angel!'

'Glory to the True God Khorne! Glory to the Red Angel!' the multitude answered.

Agnes suddenly realised that Louise wasn't hidden at her side anymore. She cursed as she spotted her walking through the camp, her wand in her hand. The crowd opened a path for her as she advanced towards Ghathrax. Derflinger spoke:

**Hey, partner. Your master is coming your way, and she doesn't look happy at all. **

'I know. But she's not stupid. She'll listen to me.' Ghathrax answered.

**Okay. But you better explain everything to her in a way she can understand. This world is as ruthless with heresy as yours was. **

Ghathrax had no time to speak again. Louise had stopped in front of him and was pointing her wand at his head.

'You! You-you-you _murderer_! You killed him! He was defenceless and you killed him! It was you all along, weren't you? You, and your little... cult, or whatever these people are!' she screamed.

'Yes.' Ghathrax answered. He didn't say anything else.

'You cut the head of an unarmed, bound man!'

'Yes, I did.' Ghathrax repeated.

'B-but why?' Louise asked, utterly confused at her familiar's calmness.

'See these people around you?' Ghathrax replied, opening his arms, blood dripping from the chainaxe's teeth. 'They asked me to.'

'And you agreed? These people rebel against their country, and not only you don't stop them, but you even _help _them?!' Louise yelled at him.

An angry murmur began spreading through the crowd.

'Ah, but you're wrong there, master.' Ghatrax said, bringing the facial plate of his helmet closer to Louise's face. 'These people don't want to rebel against their country. They are still loyal Tristainians.'

'They kill nobles, and merchants! That's as rebellious as you can get! And all this heretic talk of the True God?! You taught them about your blasphemous gods, didn't you?! Do you have any idea what the Church of Brimir will do to me if they find out my familiar is a heretic and is spreading his faith through the land like some poison?!'

Ghathrax clenched his fist and tightened his grip on Derflinger.

'First off: your _Brimir_,' he spat, 'was never a God. He was only a man. _Mortal_. And for what I've heard, he was as bad, if not worse, as myself or my gods. I hear he anihilated an entire species? I've helped do things like that hundreds of times, and worse. Secondly, these people wanted revenge for their sons, and daughters, and parents, and siblings, who were abused, robbed, raped or killed by the "nobles" you so seem to cherish. I gave it to them, and I have asked nothing of them in return, except for their unwavering loyalty, and their faith on the Blood God. When the time comes, I won't have to force them to do anything: they will join the carnage willingly. And thirdly: don't you ever call me a heretic again. I serve you because Khorne commands me to, but don't test me. I'm not your dog.'

Louise calmed down a bit, but she asked one more thing:

'So why do they call you Red Angel?'

'I told them I'm not worthy of that name, but they still call me that. My Primarch was once known by that title.' Ghathrax answered.

Louise was about to ask him how he had been able to conceal the cult for so long, when she heard a sudden commotion. A few cultists had found Agnes's hiding place and had tried to capture her. The woman was surrounded by angry cultists, and she had drawn both her sword and her pistol.

'Stay back, heretics! I will kill anyone who tries to come closer!' the royal musketeer shouted.

'Don't harm her! Ghathrax, tell them!' Louise shouted. 'Tell them not to do anything to Agnes! If they hurt her, the Princess will never understand! She will send her army, and kill everyone!

Ghathrax nodded.

'Stop doing that and let the woman come over here.' he commanded.

'But, my lord...' one of the cultists began.

'Don't try my patience, mortal. Let her approach.'

'Yes, my lord.' the man said, and the cultists stepped back, allowing Agnes to get closer to Ghathrax and Louise. She stood behind the young mage, eyeing the crowd with distrust.

Louise then spotted Siesta.

'Siesta! You did that thing with the head! How did you-? You're not even a mage! And what in the name of the Founder are you _wearing_?' she asked.

'Miss Valliére!' Siesta said, coming closer. 'I was rescued by the Red- by Lord Ghathrax, when I was in Count Mott's Estate. He said that I had a seizure once, when he was with me in the courtyard, in the Academy. Apparently, one of the gods Lord Ghathrax was speaking of kinda talked through me. Lord Ghathrax says that I have some kind of connection with that god, so now I'm a priestess or something like that. It's... I can't really explain it. It's like I'm stronger now. I can do things no normal person should be able to do. Whatever it is, I can feel the power running through my body. I'm also immune... to magic. And if I drink someone's blood, I can pass on the blessing to them.' the former maid explained.

'Magical immunity? I've never heard of anything like that!' Louise said, completely perplexed.

'It's Khorne's Blessing. The receivers become immune to sorcery and magic unto their deaths.' Ghathrax explained. 'Also, they are slightly stronger, faster, and more resilient. Their injuries heal within hours, instead of weeks. But this maid has become something else. She's what every pshychic in my universe has always dreamed. She can manipulate the Warp, but her soul is safe against it. She can do just about _anything_. That's why I couldn't let her be taken by that pathetic noble. Her gift would have been wasted. So now, to avoid unnecessary problems, I keep her here, where she can be protected by my own men.'

There was a moment of silence, while Louise pondered about everything she had heard. On one hand this was sedition, and heresy, and talking about it to the Princess or the Church would mean sentencing every man, woman and child in the encampment to a certain and gruesome death.

But if she played her cards right, the Princess would never need to know. Louise could tell her that the killings had been the work of proffessional assassins, payed by a subversive element among the now dead nobles who was planning to overthrow the government. She'd say that Ghathrax had killed both the assassins and the master, effectively avoiding uncomfortable questions. That way, Ghathrax would be able to keep his private "army" and, who knew? Maybe they would turn out to be useful...

'Okay. You can keep your little cult, and neither me nor Agnes will say a word about it to Princess Henrietta or the Church. But stop the killings. You can't draw more attention. Consider this a reward for saving my life from Fouquet and her golem. Now, get me the hell out of this damn forest, and let this be the end of it.' Louise said.

'Very well. Marcel will show you the way. I'll follow shortly, master.' Ghathrax answered.

Once Louise, Agnes and the guide were gone, Derflinger spoke:

**You know, partner, I didn't think she'd agree to keep this a secret. She also seems more... like you. I mean, she's so aggressive, and as power-hungry as you are. She craves for attention. I've sensed it.**

'I know. I count on it. That pride, anger, and that need for acceptance will be powerful allies once she discovers her true power.'

**I hope she never uses this power for dark purposes, partner, because if she does... Well, then the entire world will fear the rise of the deadliest killing machine of all times: the Void Berserker. **

-:-

**That's it for today, boys and girls. Remember to follow, favourite and review if you like this story. **

**See you in 2-3 days! **


	8. Chapter 8: The Princess's Letter

**Chapter 8 is here! **

**Eipok: Yeah, that's for sure. But have in mind that Derflinger doesn't know that yet. Besides, as intelligent as Derflinger is, he's only as good or bad as his wielder. And also, though Ghathrax is a savage and merciless killer, he still hasn't done anything morally wrong (except maybe killing alleged criminals without due process).**

**Well, on with the story!**

-:-

**Room of Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Valliére, Tristain Academy of Magic. Six days after the cultist incidents. **

Louise was in her room, doing her homework late at night. Only a candle brought light to the room, while the young mage worked. Ghathrax sat in a corner, examining the runes over his left hand. He showed them to Derflinger, who lay next to him.

'What do these mean?' the Space Marine asked, in a low voice.

**They're ancient runes. They mark you as that girl's familiar.**

'Do they do anything?' Ghathrax asked.

**These were originally intended to enable their bearer to use any weapon. But heck, you _are_ a weapon, so they only do what all familiar runes do.**

'Which is?'

**They bind you to your master. The runes will change you, little by little. You won't even notice, but you will find yourself not only feeling obliged to defend your master, but you'll be wanting to. Also, I don't think any of your kind would be as peaceful as you are, even without those Butcher's Nails thingamajigs you told me about. Still, that strange resistance to magic you have influences the runes, slowing their progress. That's why you still are so independent.**

Ghathrax was about to speak again, when suddenly the window opened with a loud slam, letting in a gust of wind. Immediately, the Chaos Space Marine got up, took Derflinger and advanced to place himself between the window and Louise.

The pinkette, surprised by the sudden noise and Ghathrax's reaction, looked up and almost fell from her chair when she saw the scene developing in front of her eyes. Ghathrax was holding a hooded figure by the neck, and was about to use his chainaxe to cut her to pieces. The figure let out a muffled scream and thrashed, causing the hood to slip back, revealing the face of Princess Henrietta.

'Ghathrax! Don't kill her, she's the Princess!' Louise screamed, jumping to her feet.

The enormous warrior loosened his grip and opened his fingers, letting the young girl fall to the floor, where she started coughing as she tried to regain her breath. Louise rushed to her side.

'You are a SAVAGE, Ghathrax Crimsonfist! You won't eat for a WEEK! How could you do that to the Princess!?' she shouted, helping Henrietta sit up.

'I thought she was an enemy. She came into your room uninvited, her face concealed, through the window and making noise.' the Space Marine answered. 'Relax. Your vitals are stable.' he then told the Princess who was still coughing.

'...Louise... not his fault...*cough* *cough* It's not... his fault... *cough* I should have knocked...' Henrietta said, difficultly.

'Of course it is his fault! Here, sit, Your Highness. I'm so sorry for that brute of a familiar...' Louise said, helping the Princess to the bed.

'Don't worry... *cough* I'm not hurt. You can be proud of your familiar, Louise.' Henrietta said, her voice a bit hoarse, but smiling to try and calm her friend down.

'I don't care! Apologize, familiar! Apologize, I said!' Louise shouted.

Ghathrax didn't say anything, but he respectfully bowed his head towards Henrietta.

"Showing deference and apologizing to a mortal _child_... Is this what I've become?" he thought, bitterly.

The thought was amusing, though. He'd gone from leading hordes of brutal warriors to victory in the name of the Chaos Gods, to protecting a small pink-haired girl from her pathetic enemies. Khorne did have a sense of humor after all.

'Familiar, are you listening?'

'Yes, master?' Ghathrax said, putting aside his thoughts.

'The Princess has a mission for us. Please, pay attention.' Louise said.

'Yes, master. What is the mission, little mortal princess?' the warrior asked.

'Ghathrax!' Louise exclaimed, scandalized.

'It's okay, Louise. I don't mind.' Henrietta said. She cleared her voice, then started talking. 'Like I was saying, this task needs to be carried out with extreme precaution and discretion. As you know, I'm going to marry into the Germanian Royal Family once my mother abdicates, to strengthen the alliance between both our countries. Still there is one problem. When I was younger, I had an... affair.'

'Princess?' Louise asked. 'What do you mean, an "affair"?'

'I mean exactly that, Louise. I had an affair... with Prince Wales Tudor of Albion.' Henrietta explained. 'He and I exchanged letters over the years, and some of those letters contain delicate information detailing our "slip". If those letters were to ever reach our enemies in the Germanian court, the engagement would be broken, and we'd find ourselves alone against the Gallian expansionist ambitions... or an Albionese invasion.'

'An Albionese invasion? Why would King James ever authorize an invasion of Tristain? Aren't we allies?' Louise asked, now confused.

'Louise... King James is no more. I received word a week ago that Albion is undergoing a revolution of massive proportions. The entire country is in turmoil. The King was killed over a month ago, when the rebel forces led by one Dictator Cromwell sacked and burned Londinium. The last surviving member of the Albionese Royalty is Prince Wales, but his whereabouts are unknown. My friend, I need you to find Prince Wales. You must give him this letter, and retrieve all the other letters I sent to him.' the Princess said, handing Louise an envelope sealed with purple wax.

'So where do you suggest we start looking for this Prince Wales?' Ghathrax then asked, distractedly scratching the joint between his helmet and his breastplate.

'There is a royalist enclave in the southwest, called Newcastle. I heard they still resist, but I heard that their supplies are dwindling, and that the rebels are preparing a definitive assault on the fortress. They will attack in four days, so I need you to be quick. The future of Tristain is in your hands.' Henrietta answered.

A creak was then heard right outside the room, by the door. In a split second, Ghathrax was pointing his boltgun towards the entrance, and both Louise and the Princess had raised their wands. Realising he'd been discovered, the intruder fully opened the door.

'Guiche? What the hell are you doing? Were you eavesdropping?' Louise said, clearly irritated.

As everyone lowered their weapons, Guiche entered the room, an arrogant smile on his face, and kneeled before Henrietta.

'Your Highness... please allow your faithful servant Guiche de Gramont, to participate in this quest.' he said, offering her his wand.

'Gramont... Are you by any chance related to Field Marshal Gramont?' the Princess asked, smiling and lightly bowing her head in acknowledgement.

'I have the honor of being his first-born son, Your Highness.' Guiche said.

'Very well. You can rise, Guiche de Gramont. You will accompany Louise and her familiar on this mission.' Henrietta conceded. 'I have also issued a bodyguard to guide you. You know him, Louise. It's Viscount Wardes.'

'V-V-V-Viscount W-Wardes?' Louise asked, furiously blushing.

'Yes, the captain of the Griffin Knights. He asked for this asignment especially. He said he couldn't wait to see you. Oh, and you'll need this. This ring will identify you as my envoy. It's the waterstone of Tristain, as Albion's is a windstone. My mother gave it to me when she told me about her intentions of abdicating in me.'

'Oh... W-well, it's o-okay, I guess...' Louise stammered.

'Your face presents an abnormal reddish coloration, master. Are you suffering from air loss?' Ghathrax asked, examining her.

'S-shut up, Ghathrax! I'm fine!' Louise exclaimed.

'Yes, master.'

-:-

**Newcastle, the same night. **

A cool night breeze blew over the battlements of the fortress of Newcastle. Black Jack O'Conor shuddered a bit, and wrapped himself in his cape to keep warm. It looked like it would be an early autumn. The boy rubbed the stump that was all that was left of his right hand, up to the wrist. He couldn't stand the itching the hook made him suffer, so he frequently pulled it off and furiously scratched at the missing limb.

Jack sighed as he looked beyond the wall with his only eye. The sight of the Forest of Galin would have been beautiful indeed if the rebels weren't currently occupying it with their tents, campfires and siege works. Some footsteps echoed behind Jack. He turned, and saw Prince Wales walking towards him, a mug of ale in each hand.

'Hey, Jack. Want some?' the Prince asked, handing him out one of the mugs.

'Thanks, Your Highness.' Jack said, taking the ale.

'Oh, come on, Jack. You know better than that. We're friends, remember? No respectful titles needed.' Wales said, a smile on his face.

Both boys laughed. Then, they drank in silence, as they watched the movements of the men below them. It was a full moon that night, so the maneuvres of the rebels were as clear as day.

'Doesn't look like they will attack tonight.' Wales said, as he set his mug over a merlon.

'You never know.' Jack answered, before doing the same.

'Hey, can I ask you something?' Wales said, turning his head in his friend's direction.

'Sure, go ahead.' Jack said, taking out his hook and struggling to put it on again.

'Have you ever thought we shouldn't have returned to Newcastle? I mean, we could have just stayed on the _Eagle_, safe and sound, preying occasionally on isolated rebel ships to resupply. Or we could have gone to Tristain, or Germania, and become mercenaries...'

'You should know better than anyone why we couldn't do that. Why we _decided_ not to do that.'

'Yeah, I know. It's our duty. It's my duty. We, I, have to save what's left of this country. Even if that means dying here, with no one to help us, or watch us fall. I guess I'm having doubts, Jack.' Wales said, before taking another sip of ale.

'They will.' Jack said, looking at Wales.

'What?'

'They will watch us fall. The rebels.'

'They don't count, Jack. Besides, what good will it do? They are thirty thousand, we are five hundred. We'll be swept from the face of Halkeginia, and no one wil remember us.'

'They _will_ remember us, Wales. They will wash over us, like the storms of winter. They have the advantage of numbers, they are well-fed, well trained, motivated. But they have a choice. We don't. Our men will fight like lions. Like cornered animals. Because when you have somewhere to run to, you always think of that possibility, but when you don't, you will fight twice as ferociously just to make the maximum damage before you succumb. We have that. They don't. And make no mistake, we will fall, eventually. But when we do, our end will be so glorious that they will have no choice but to bitterly remember this place every day of their lives. The courage of those who stood behind these walls. The determination of those who died defending these stones, this last patch of earth we can still call our home.' Jack said. His eye was deadly serious.

Wales looked silently at his friend for a full minute, before slowly nodding.

'All right. This is the end. We'll make our last stand here. We will not live on, but I'll damn sure make the bastards remember my name after I'm gone.'

-:-

**Tristain, one hour before dawn. Academy of Magic. **

Louise twisted and turned in her sleep. Her face was flushed and sweaty, and her nightgown had come up to her waist.

The dream was assaulting her again. She walked through the field of battle, hardly seeing through the thick smoke, and calling out for someone. She saw the three red eyes glowing in the dark, and the monstruous creature that growled behind them. But this time, she saw something else.

A figure, standing between Louise and the wall of darkness that loomed over her. The figure's armor was covered in red blood, and it raised a sword towards the black sky. The creature in front of Louise and the mystery person roared, making the ground shake...

...and Louise woke up, screaming and thrashing. Ghathrax, who was standing nearby, grabbed her by the arms and kept her in place until she calmed down. Once Louise realised she had been dreaming, she tried to use her wand to light up the candles on the chandelier that was hanging from the ceiling. It didn't end well, as the seemingly simple spell just blew off the chandelier from its support nails, making it fall with a loud crash.

'Get dressed. It is time.' Ghathrax said, once he dusted off the soot from his armor. Then, he took Derflinger and the other chainaxe and stepped outside the room. Guiche was already waiting by the door.

'What happened in there?' the boy asked.

'She blew up the chandelier. Maybe she didn't like the candles.' Ghathrax answered, before heading out to the yard.

'Ha! I didn't know your kind had a sense of humor.' Guiche snickered, as he followed the Berserker.

'We don't.' Ghathrax replied.

'Yeah, whatever you say.' the boy said, smiling to himself.

As they reached the gardens, Ghathrax noticed a thick mist had formed.

'Is this common here?' he asked.

'What, the mist?' came Guiche's reply. 'Yeah, it happens. It's very early in the morning, though. Hopefully, it won't last too long. It would be unbecoming of my status to ride without being able to see my own path.'

Ghathrax let out a small grunt. The Space Marine and the mage reached the gates of the Academy and passed through them, stepping out to a grassfield. Two horses awaited them, tied to a pole.

Ten minutes of waiting later, a now fully clothed Louise came out of the Academy too. She seemed to be very cold, as the morning breeze waved her a word, the girl joined Ghathrax and Guiche. Standing behind the Berserker to shield herself from the wind, Louise examined the ring the Princess had given her.

She still couldn't understand. Why had Henrietta chosen precisely her, Louise, called the "Zero", to carry out such an important mission? She could have sent only Wardes. He was a good knight, and a brave and skilled warrior. Surely he would perform better without Louise there to hinder his efforts...

A sudden rumble on the ground interrupted her thoughts. If her hearing was right, it came from under Guiche.

'Hey, guys. What's that sound-?' he asked, looking down.

The ground exploded beneath the young Earth mage. Once the smoke cleared, Louise saw a gigantic _mole_, which had crawled out of a hole in the ground. It was now right on top of Guiche, rubbing its nose against his chin.

'Verdant! My beautiful Verdant, you thought I was going to leave you behind, didn't you?' Guiche said, hugging his familiar's snout from below.

Suddenly, Verdant lost all interest in Guiche, and turned its head towards Louise. By now, Ghathrax knew that the mole was harmless, so he didn't so much as move a muscle to help Louise when Verdant jumped over her and began rummaging through her clothes. It detected the object of its affection on Louise's hand: the ring.

'Noo! What the hell are you doing, you oversized moron! Where do you think you're _touching_!?

Getting up and dusting himself, Guiche laughed.

'I see. It's the ring. Verdant loves jewelery. Especially magical jewelery. That's what makes her so useful.'

'Get it off me! Guiche, you idiot! Ghathraaaaax!' Louise yelled.

Then, as Ghathrax was about to move in to protect his master's dignity, an enormous hammer made of clouds hit Verdant, effectively forcing her off Louise.

Immediately, Ghathrax placed himself between Louise and the unseen threat. Derflinger and the other chainaxe, which Ghatrax had decided to call Hellcutter, both occupied their places in Ghathrax's right and left hand respectively.

Meanwhile, Guiche had taken out his wand and was pointing it towards the mist from where the attack had come from.

'Who dares attack my familiar!? Show yourself!' he shouted.

A roar answered his challenge. Then, something appeared in the mist. Its head, front claws and wings were those of an eagle, while the hindquarters were like a lion's. It was a griffin. The majestic creature landed in front of them, raising a cloud of dust, and roared again. Guiche took a step back, but Ghathrax didn't move. Derflinger and Hellcutter buzzed to life, as the Berserker tensed in anticipation to the attack. His armor was already supplying the astartes with a mixture of adrenaline and combat drugs, effectively preparing him for combat.

But the griffin did not attack. It stepped back, as a man in a blue longcoat and a large hat jumped off of its back. The man was tall, well-built and very handsome. His long hair and beard were just the color of a cloudy morning, and he had blue eyes.

The man advanced, and took off his hat.

'My apologies. I thought my dearest Louise was being attacked.' he said. 'I was only trying to defend my fiancé. I hope you understand that I mean you no harm. My name is Viscount Jean-Jacques Francis Wardes, Captain of the Griffin Knights by the grace of Brimir, and the will of the Queen.'

'Wait, wait a moment.' Guiche interrupted, absolutely puzzled. 'Fiancé!? Louise is your...!?'

Ghathrax lowered his weapons and looked back at Louise. The girl was looking down to the ground, and she was blushing furiously.

'Thank you for defending her, servant. I think I can take care of Louise by myself, now.' Wardes said, approaching.

'Watch your words, mortal. I am no servant.' Ghathrax growled. There was something about this man, something that made the astartes angry. Well, angrier than he usually was.

'Of course. My apologies, sir...' Wardes replied.

'I'm no "sir" either, mortal. My name is Ghathrax Crimsonfist. And I don't need your apologies, nor your thanks.' the Space Marine spat, before turning his back on the Viscount and walking away.

Louise was about to scream something really nasty to her familiar, but then Wardes was entirely occupying her field of vision. She blushed again, breathing hard.

'You have grown to a beautiful young woman, adorable Louise.' he said, caressing her face with one finger. The girl thought she was going to melt, yet she couldn't speak a word. Then, the noble picked her up princess-style, and let out a small laugh. 'You are as light as ever, though. As if you were made of air.'

'S-say, Wardes. How are we going to Albion? How do you plan to find Prince Wales?' Louise asked, trying to control her voice.

'Don't worry, Louise. I have everything planned to the detail. You know I only look forward to pleasing you and the Princess.' Wardes answered, as he walked back to the griffin, carrying Louise in his arms.

A few meters away, Ghathrax heard the exchange thanks to the sound receivers implanted in his helmet, which enhanced his already exceptional sense of hearing. That allowed him to hear things no human should be able to perceive, such as human heartbeat, and how it affected an individual's ability to lie. And right now, one thing was sure. Wardes was lying.

**Well, that's it. I'm planning to make an exceptionally long chapter after this one, detailing everything that will go on during the journey to Albion and then in Newcastle. **

**It'll probably take me one more day than usual, so next chapter will be up by Tuesday. Thank you for reading, people. See you in 4 days. **


	9. Chapter 9 Part 1: The Journey to Albion

**Chapter 9 is here! **

**As promised, here it is, the longest chapter yet. But don't worry! I'm sure there will be even longer ones, for the most important events. **

**On with the story! :D**

-:-

**La Rochelle, Gallia. Two days before the Battle of Newcastle. **

The journey to the port city of La Rochelle took two days. The city was situated in a deep gorge in the mountains, so it wasn't very big, but it was certainly impressive. The buildings had been carved directly into the rocky slopes, and the neighborhoods extended vertically, instead of horizontally.

Enormous boulders could be seen on both sides of the narrow mountain path. The boulders had been emptied, and taverns, inns and whorehouses had been built inside.

'This is the only port to Albion, right?' Guiche asked, as he descended from his horse in front of an inn called "The Golden Wine Barrel".

'Yes, that is true. I don't remember it being so crowded though...' Louise answered, as she too set foot on the ground.

From Ghathrax's back, Derflinger spoke:

**It's because of the war in Albion. Half of these people are mercenaries, and the other half are deserters and refugees. I'm guessing they are all royalists, or at least the deserters and refugees are. As for the mercenaries... well, they travel with wars, and these were most probably hired by the royalists. If the side that hired you loses, you get out of the winner's way and find new contractors. At times like these, mercenaries can find work anywhere: there is civil war in Albion, internal strife in Germania, Gallia is fighting the Aragonians in the South, there are Crusades going on, etc. **

Wardes stepped off his griffin and approached Ghathrax.

'You are certainly full of surprises, familiar. You haven't eaten or slept in two days. You can run from dawn to nightfall without even slowing down. You can uproot trees with your bare hands. And now, your axe talks. '

Ghathrax let out a grunt and turned his back on Wardes.

'I don't have time for false praise, mortal. What do you want?.' he replied, as he walked towards the inn.

'I hear you single-handedly took out Fouquet and her dirt golem. If there's truth to those claims, I'd like to spar with you, familiar. To see what you're made of.' Wardes asked, a strange smile on his lips.

Ghathrax stopped, and turned.

'No, Wardes!' Louise exclaimed behind Wardes.

Both the noble and the astartes looked at her.

'I-I mean... you're my fiancé. I don't want you to get hurt...' she muttered, blushing intensely.

'Louise, I won't get hurt. It'll just be a practice duel...' Wardes said, with a reassuring smile.

'She's right, mortal. You don't want to fight me, I assure you.' Ghathrax said.

'If you don't want to, I won't force you. I can understand if bravery isn't your _forte_... ' Wardes said.

The noble never saw it coming. In the blink of an eye, the Berserker covered the two meters between them and grabbed the Viscount by the throat, lifting him in the air.

'Ghathrax, NO!' Louise screamed, as she ran to try and lower the astartes's arm. 'Don't hurt him! Let him go, now!'

Ignoring Louise, Ghathrax pulled Wardes closer, until the man's nose almost touched the respirator grill.

'I accept your duel, weakling. I will spare your life for now, because my master has ordered me to, but there will come a day when she won't be there to save your worthless skin. And when that day comes, you better pray to your God that I don't find you. Because if I do, you will regret the day you were born.' Ghathrax growled.

'Hgg- Ghhh-' the Viscount managed to let out.

Ghathrax opened his fingers, and Wardes fell to the ground, coughing and gagging.

'I will wait for you tomorrow at dawn, here... if you are _brave_ enough.' Ghathrax spat, before turning his back on the noble. Guiche quickly followed Ghathrax into the inn.

'I-I'll rent a few rooms, if you don't mind...' Guiche said, to no one in particular.

Louise fell to her knees beside Wardes, and helped him up, putting his arm around her for support.

'You shouldn't have called him a coward. You can't fight him tomorrow, Wardes, he'll kill you!' she whispered angrily.

'I will fight. I challenged him first. Besides, I didn't take out my wand this time. Tomorrow I will be fully prepared.' Wardes said, as they walked towards the inn. 'I will not lose again.'

-:-

**The same night, Louise's and Wardes's room. **

Wardes and Louise stayed at the best room in the inn. It was clearly fitted for nobles, as could be seen by the fine wooden floor, the expensive furniture and the exquisite taste in the decoration. An enormous four-poster bed occupied the center of the room, and aromatic candles lit the place, as well as filling it with a delicate scent of vanilla and cloves.

Wardes sat down at a small table, and decorked a bottle of wine before pouring himself a cup. He chugged it down, and said:

'Why don't you sit down and have a cup too, Louise?'

Louise smiled. She sat at the table, as Wardes poured wine in another glass, before refilling his own.

'Cheers!' Louise said, raising her cup. Wardes clinked it with his own, before drinking.

Louise could feel a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through her chest. She was drinking, alone with the man she had admired since she was a child. She was surprised to discover that whatever happened next, she wouldn't mind because she trusted Wardes. He would protect her.

'Is the letter from the Princess safe?' Wardes then asked.

Louise patted her pocket, making sure it was still there.

'It's safe. Are you worried we might not succeed in the mission?'

'Yes, Louise. I'm very worried.' Wardes replied, setting his glass on the table.

'Well, don't be. I'm here, and I'll do my best to ensure we are able to retrieve the letters from the Prince of Albion and return home safely.' Louise said, hoping her voice sounded brave.

Wardes chuckled.

'I still remember you as that small girl who would hide in that rowboat in the lake whenever she got scolded.' he said. 'You were always compared to your sisters in terms of magical power, but you were always incapable of living up to your parents' expectations...'

'You're so mean!' Louise said, lowering her head.

'But you have a hidden power, Louise. I can tell, because I know you.' Wardes continued. 'I feel you're more powerful than you can imagine yourself.'

'You really think so?' Louise said, raising her eyes to look upon the noble.

'I know so. You're a special kind of mage, Louise. But more important than that, you're special... to me.' Wardes said, as he got up from his chair and approached her. He took her glass of wine from her hands and set it over the table. Then, resting his hand on her cheek, he lowered his head towards her face until their lips almost touched.

Louise put her fingers on his mouth before he could kiss her.

'I-is this r-really alright? I mean...' she stammered.

'Don't worry Louise. I will always protect you.' he said, lightly pushing her hand away.

With a sigh, Louise surrendered herself to him, and their lips met. The kiss lasted for a full minute, and Louise could feel as if she was melting. Wardes's tongue was experienced, and awoke new sensations inside Louise, until she was gasping for air.

Their lips parted for a few seconds, before they met again, hungrily. Louise shifted in her seat, until she was kneeling on the chair, her hands around Wardes's neck, and his hands on her sides, lightly caressing her body over the fabric of the school uniform.

Suddenly, the door opened, and an enormous figure appeared on the doorway.

'Stop doing that.' Ghathrax said, impatiently. 'You there, noble. There's someone asking for you outside.'

'G-G-Ghathrax?' Louise asked, blushing furiously, and almost fainting.

Wardes sighed, and separated from Louise.

'Don't you worry, my love. I'll be back soon.' he said, before leaving the room.

'I- Don't think a-anything strange, Ghathrax! H-He's my fiancé only because our parents decided it! I-it's only normal that w-we... that we...' Louise stammered, as she tried to recompose her clothes and her hair.

'Your mating rituals don't interest me, master. I'll be outside if you need me.' Ghathrax replied, before leaving the room too.

Louise opened and closed her mouth a few times, like a fish, before throwing herself into the bed and hiding her embarrased face between the covers.

-:-

**The following morning, at dawn. **

Wardes and Ghathrax stood in front of each other. The Berserker had both of his chainaxes in his hands, and the mage had unsheathed his wand-sword and held it in a defensive stance. Louise and Guiche were watching as witnesses of the duel. Guiche sat on his mole, and Louise stood beside him, frowning in concern.

'I won't hold back, so throw everything you have at me, familiar.' Wardes said.

'I wasn't planning on holding back either, mortal. Still, you're lucky my master doesn't want you dead, because I'd happily rip your heart out with my bare hands.' Ghathrax replied.

Wardes chuckled.

'Well, then. What are you waiting for?' he said.

'Enough talking. For the Dark Gods!' Ghathrax shouted, as he lunged forward, his chainaxes buzzing through the cold morning air.

The duel was short, but violent. Wardes was a good fighter, and he was fast, but he couldn't compete with the enhanced strength and speed of the Berserker. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to withstand a direct impact of one of Ghathrax's weapons, Wardes put all of his efforts and concentration on avoiding and dodging the Space Marine's savage attacks.

After a few minutes of uninterrupted combat, Wardes spotted a weak spot on Ghathrax's armor: it was a tiny crack in the armored joint between the left elbow and the forearm. The noble sidestepped, then feigned an ascendent attack on Ghathrax's lower abdomen, but in the last moment he shifted his weight and directed his sword at the crevice in his opponent's armor.

He also finished chanting the gravity spell he had been preparing, and that would turn the Chaos Space Marine's arm into a lump three times heavier than it was. Wardes was hoping that it would destabilize Ghathrax long enough for him to attack the exposed neck joint.

The feint was succesful, and the magically charged _rapier_ struck home. For a moment, Wardes thought:

"That's it. I won. Another great victory in my already impressive record..."

But then, a red light repelled the gravity spell. Wardes's arm almost dislocated, as the brutal impact reverberated through his body. He staggered, his shoulder burning with pain, and as he tried to regain balance, an armored fist the size of his head hit him hard in the gut.

Wardes fell on his knees, gasping for air, as Ghathrax let go of his weapons, to grab him by the flaps on his coat. Then, the Berserker lifted the man up, whirled around and threw him against a pile of empty wooden boxes. Wardes felt at least one of his ribs cracking at the savage impact, and pain seared through his body. He was still wondering how had the Space Marine been able to repel his magic. The world became a blur before his eyes.

'Stop! Stop, Ghathrax!' he heard Louise yelling, before he lost consciousness.

-:-

**The same day, in the afternoon.**

Ghathrax was waiting at the pier with Guiche, as Louise helped Wardes up the stairs.

The noble had been recently healed by the best water mage in La Rochelle, but his cracked rib still hurt.

'The bone is healed, but he'll need at least two days to rest. It will hurt for a while, but it'll completely heal as long as he doesn't make too much exercise.' the water mage had said.

Still, Wardes had refused to be left behind, and insisted on boarding the ship to Albion with the rest of the group.

'I promised to the Princess I would see to it that the mission was completed.' he said. 'How can I keep my honor, if I can't even keep my word?'

Ghathrax looked as other passengers boarded the strange flying ship before him. It was exactly like a ship from the Terran Early Modern Age, except that it had canvas wings on the sides, and below the keel. A name was painted on the side: _Marie Galante_. He turned to Guiche.

'You. How is it possible for that thing to fly? Is it sorcery?'

Guiche meditated his answer for a moment.

'Well, you could say it's magic. There is a magical stone inside the ship, called windstone. It makes stuff float.' he said. 'I don't really know how it works, though.'

'Hm. You have strange technology in this world.' Ghathrax said.

'Well, _your_ technology is strange to us too, familiar.' Guiche replied.

'Good point, mortal.' Ghathrax conceded.

Soon after boarding, after Louise had accomodated Wardes inside the quarters they would both share for the journey, she approached Ghathrax.

'Familiar. Come with me to the stem. Now.' she said, before walking off.

Ghathrax followed her to the forward part of the _Marie Galante_, and asked:

'Yes, master?'

'Your behaviour with Wardes has been unacceptable lately. I am very disappointed in you.' she said, a serious look in her eyes. 'I don't want to see you two fighting ever again. Have I made myself clear?'

'Yes, master.' Ghathrax said.

'Good. Now, I want to know something. About your... cult, or whatever.' Louise said.

'What about my cult?'

'Umm... well, do they only obey you? I mean, if something happened to you, and you couldn't lead them, or keep them in line...'

'They only obey the God Khorne, or His heralds. Namely me, that Siesta girl, and you.' Ghathrax answered.

'Me? Why would they obey me?' Louise asked, caught unaware.

'Because you're my master by the will of Khorne. It's only natural for them to follow you, too.' Ghathrax replied.

'Untie anchors! Set sail!' they heard, then. The sailors in the ship rushed around, making the necessary preparations to set out. Soon, they were flying towards the island of Albion.

The journey to Albion only took one night. The wind blew strong and impetuous, and the ship cut swiftly through the clouds, coming closer to its destination with every passing hour. Dawn had barely broken when the _Marie Galante_ reached the port of Newcastle.

-:-

It was a cloudy morning. The first thing Louise and Ghathrax saw as the _Marie Galante_ approached the port, was a ship cemetery. Hundreds of half-burned ships floated about, windstones still holding the shredded hulks made of wood and metal in the air after what looked like the mother of all aerial battles.

The _Marie Galante_ had to make some risky maneuvres to avoid being hit by the floating debris. At one point, the vessel passed dangerously close to a frigate which was burning from stem to stir. The helmsman was only able to avoid the colision thanks to Wardes's intervention, who had used his wind magic to push the _Marie Galante _away from the torched frigate.

The next thing everyone saw was the huge smoke cloud in the horizon which blotted out the rising sun. Flashes of orange and red could be seen inside the cloud, and loud thunders reverberated through the air.

'Cannons.' Wardes said. 'Those are cannons.'

Louise paled.

'Oh, Founder. Let it not be too late. Let it not be too late.' she whispered.

Guiche didn't look too well either. He bit his nails obsessively, and he nervously paced the deck, muttering nonsense.

Ghathrax, on the other hand, had a shark smile under his helmet. His excitement was evident, as he gripped his chainaxes and spasmodically turned them on, and then off.

The _Marie Galante _docked at the port, which was deserted. The shadow of the fortress could be seen every time the cannons fired. Then, the smell hit the group as they disembarked. It was the foul stench of death, human filth, gunpowder and blood, all mixed together. Guiche doubled over and vomited on the ground. Louise approached him.

'Are you okay?' she asked.

'No, I'm not okay. I can't do this, Louise. I've never been in a battle before. Hell, I've never even been near one.' Guiche replied, still gagging and spitting clots of his half-digested breakfast.

'Don't worry. You don't have to do this. Stay here, and don't let the captain set sail again without us. Alright?'

'Yeah, sure.' Guiche said, his forehead beaded with sweat.

After leaving Guiche behind, Wardes, Louise and Ghathrax walked towards the ongoing battle. Newcastle was less than a mile from the port, so it didn't take them too long to reach the castle. When they did, they encountered a scene that seemed to have been taken directly from the very catacombs of hell.

The fortress had been completely surrounded by a double trenchline, from which dozens of cannons and mages poured a constant hail of fire, pounding the walls without pause. The lower level of the fortress was burning, as thousands of soldiers assaulted the walls and the gate.

'We have to go through that to get to the Prince.' Wardes said. 'Here's my plan. Familiar, you are tough enough to get through the enemy lines, causing a diversion. Make a path, so that Louise and I can get to the eastern wall. As soon as we reach it, I will use my wind magic to levitate us over the wall. Once we're over the battlements, make your way back to the wall, and climb it to safety.'

'But what if the soldiers inside the fortress think that we're enemies?' Louise intervened.

'Use your ring. The waterstone of Tristain will mark you as an ally, so they will not attack us.' Wardes said. 'Any questions?'

Ghathrax unslung his chainaxes.

'Yes.' he said, activating them. 'When do we start?'

The rebel soldiers in the trenches were disappointed. There were 50,000 men in the rebel army, but only ten thousand of them had been chosen for the final assault, to crush the 300 wounded, exhausted and desperate royalists who still held Newcastle.

But their disappointment changed as soon as they saw the red iron-clad figure standing over a hill in the eastern flank.

Ghathrax Crimsonfist of the World Eaters raised Derflinger to the skies and threw his head back before bellowing with thunderous voice amplified tenfold by an extra lung and the loudspeaker on his helmet:

'BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE! SOULS FOR THE SOUL EATER!'

And then, he charged down the hill at full run. The soldiers in the trenches never knew what hit them, as the Berserker smashed into their lines, cutting, cleaving and stomping at them with all his might. Limbs, meat chunks, guts and blood flew everywhere, painting the trench walls red. Some tried to fight. Some tried to flee. Some tried to surrender. But none of it mattered to the Chaos Space Marine. Everyone and everything fell to his axes.

Here and there, mages tried to stop the yelling, blood drenched monster that was tearing their men apart by throwing ice stakes, invoking golems and hurling fireballs at him. Yet nothing seemed to be able to damage the Berserker, as a red light surrounded his armor, protecting him from any magical attacks.

Ghathrax could feel hundreds of bullets, arrows and spells hitting his ceramite cuirass, as he shredded dozens of enemies into bloody ribbons with every slice of his weapons, never even slowing down. Earth spikes erupted under his boots but he just stomped them down. His chainaxes cut through the enemy knights and commoners alike, as if their armors weren't even there.

In the next trench section that Ghathrax attacked, two hundred sodiers, some of them veterans from a dozen campaigns, and perfectly supported by a hundred auxiliary demi-human troops, such as orcs, trolls and elven mercenaries, tried to end the Berserker's savage charge by forming a three-layers thick shield wall. Not only weren't they able to stop him, but when Ghathrax exited the trench, only gutted and dismembered bodies were left behind.

After sweeping the first trenchline clean, Ghathrax crossed over to the second. The section commander was trying to organize his men to counterattack, when he heard sudden yelling and screaming. _Something_ had jumped into the trench, and it was coming his way, cleaving and slicing through the soldiers under his command. He started stepping back, as he caught a glimpse of what was coming his way. A blur of blood, steel and death was _anihilating_ his troops, and it was heading towards him. The section commander panicked, and began running backwards, trying to put as many of his subordinates between him and the Berserker, to no avail. Soon, there were no more soldiers to push forward, and the commander's back hit a dead end. The last thing he ever saw was an enormous chainaxe descending on his head.

Finally, Ghathrax reached the eastern wall of the castle. He slammed into the rear of the rebel assailants formation, tearing them apart with sheer brute force, mowing them down, and howling like a demon. He hacked down the siege ladders that covered the wall, making dozens of men fall to their deaths. As he massacred the rebels, Ghathrax kept bellowing and yelling to the top of his lungs:

'KILL, MAIM, BURN! KILL, MAIM, BURN! KILL, MAIM, BURN!'

Louise and Wardes were so impressed by Ghathrax's brutal display of utmost savagery, cruelty and violence, that they almost forgot to fulfill their part of the plan.

'Come on! Now is our chance, while your familiar is distracting them!' Wardes exclaimed, taking Louise's hand and using his wind magic to propel them over the battlefield. They reached the foot of the wall in an instant, in the middle of a group of albionese rebels which Ghathrax hadn't killed yet. Wardes swiftly took care of them with his wand-sword, and began chanting a levitation spell.

Louise almost threw up when she saw the hundreds of dead bodies that littered the ground, some killed by the defenders of Newcastle, some by her familiar.

'..._odella thresam lowitae eärsil!_' Wardes chanted, thus finishing the levitation spell.

Both mages floated upwards, until they reached the battlements, and immediately found themselves surrounded by several bloodied and dirty soldiers. The royalists were about to attack, when a voice suddenly imposed itself over the screams of the dying and the desperate clash of swords:

'Stop! That ring... where did you get it?'

Everyone looked around, trying to discern the source of the voice. Louise then saw a knight in black armor making his way through the soldiers, accompanied by a young boy with a patch in his right eye, a hook in his right hand and a longsword in his left. The boy also had terrible black-coloured burn marks on his right cheek.

The knight stopped in front of Louise. His armor was covered in blood splatters, and the sword in his hand was so caked with dried blood and filth that it was almost unfitting for a noble.

'I said, where did you get that ring?' the black knight repeated.

'I- Princess Henrietta of Tristain gave it to me. She said it would mark me as her envoy.'

'Henrietta?' the knight said, lowering his sword.

'I must speak to Prince Wales of Albion-' Louise began, before a loud roar interrupted her.

'My Prince! The red golem from before is forcing the rebels off the gate! They're retreating back to the trenchlines!' a soldier shouted.

"_Ghathrax_" Louise thought, before swiftly turning to look over the battlements. Her suspicions were correct.

The Berserker had reached the gates, killing anyone standing in his way, he had taken a torch, and he was now burning the battering ram that the rebels had been trying to use to smash the doors down. Once the siege engine was in flames, the Berserker yelled with all his might:

'BLOOD! SKULLS! SOULS! KILL, MAIM, BURN! KILL, MAIM, BURN! KILL, MAIM, BURN!

'Open the gates! Open the gates!' the black knight shouted.

A few soldiers rushed to follow the knight's orders.

The enormous wooden gates opened with a loud creaking sound behind Ghathrax, who made an obscene gesture towards the fleeing rebels, before walking into the castle.

As the doors closed again, Louise turned to the knight.

'As I was saying, I need to see Prince Wales Tudor, rightful heir to the throne of Albion. Take me to him.' she said.

'Show me your ring.' the black knight replied.

'What?'

'Your ring. Hold it up.'

Louise looked at Wardes, who nodded and smiled reassuringly. She smiled back, and then obeyed, holding up her closed fist with the blue waterstone ring on her middle finger. The black knight then took off his gauntlet and lifted his own closed fist, which had an almost exact replica of Louise's ring, except this one was a windstone.

Before she could say anything, a multicolored light emanated from both rings, connecting them.

'What- What is happening?' Louise asked.

'It is the union of the Waterstone of Tristain and the Windstone of Albion. The rainbow that connects both Houses, even if they are far apart.' the knight answered.

'You...'

'Yes, me.' the black knight said, taking off his helmet and revealing his face. 'I am Prince Wales Tudor, last of the Albion Royal Family.'

**Okay, I know this isn't all that long, but I had several problems I had to attend to. The 2nd part of Chapter 9 will hopefully be up by tomorrow. **

**Have patience guys. Thanks for your continued support and your kind reviews. See ya! :D**


	10. Chapter 9 Part 2: The Siege of Newcastle

**Ok, Chapter 9 Part 2 is here guys. **

**I needed to finish this, but the Tuesday deadline was coming, so I decided to upload half of the chapter on Tuesday and the other half as soon as I was able to finish it. Sorry it couldn't be yesterday, I had to take care of some problems at home, so I had almost no time to write. **

**I received two PMs telling me that it was a bit of an overkill to use a Space Marine as the main character in the story, and that because Ghathrax cannot be killed in Halkeginia, the story loses its thrill. I tell you right now that Ghathrax isn't the only protagonist, and that there are many other characters who can be hurt, and maybe killed, huehuehue :D **

**That's enough with the spoilers. On with the story! **

-:-

**Newcastle, rebel trenchline. Day of the final battle. **

General Julius Magnus was in shock. The red-armored golem had come from nowhere, cut a bloody path through his army, killing hundreds, and then had disappeared inside the royalist fortress. Cromwell would have his head for this.

'Stay in formation, men! Stay in formation!' Marshal Anderson shouted, as he tried to maintain order within his troops.

'Sir, we have the casualty estimates!' a messenger exclaimed, approaching the General.

'Well, what are you waiting for, man? Spit them out!' the General ordered.

'Sir, we have lost 960 men to the Red Angel...' the messenger began.

'Red Angel?' General Magnus asked.

'It's how the men have taken to calling the crimson monster from before, sir.' Marshal Jason Neville said.

'Very well. Continue.' the General said.

'Yes, sir. As I was saying, 960 men have died at the Red Angel's hands, and over a thousand have been wounded. And another 200 have died trying to take the walls, with 800 wounded. The enemy is believed to have lost between 150 and 250 men.'

'That means we still have at least 300 royalists left to worry about...' Neville said.

'And the Angel.' Anderson intervened.

'Don't worry, gentlemen.' Magnus said. 'Soon, their magical defenses will falter under our constant bombardment, and when that time comes, not even that... _thing_... will be able to stop us.'

-:-

**Newcastle, inside the fortress. **

Louise exited Wales's room, and saw Wardes next to the door, leaning against the wall.

'Well?' he inquired, straightening himself and approaching her.

Louise sighed, and lowered her head.

'He gave me the letters, and read the one from the Princess, but...' she started, her voice shaky.

'But?'

'I asked him to leave, but he refused. He said it's his duty to stay behind to fight for what's left of his country, even if he has absolutely no chance of winning.' Louise finished. 'He's determined to die.'

Wardes embraced Louise, and rested her head on his chest.

'Well, then there is nothing else we can do.' he said. 'It's a brave choice, though. Foolish, but brave.'

Louise closed her eyes, as a tear slowly fell down her cheek.

'I just can't believe he would give up his life so easily, that's all. I thought... I thought Prince Wales would do anything he could to save his men and return to the Princess. Can't he understand how sad she will feel if he dies here? How heartbroken?'

Wardes didn't answer. He just held Louise, and for some reason, a smile appeared on his lips. The girl didn't notice.

Suddenly, the entire castle shook. Louise opened her eyes and looked around.

'What was that?' she asked.

The castle shook a second time. Then a third, and a fourth.

'Cannon fire. The rebels are bombarding the castle again.' Wardes said. 'Come. We must think of a way out of this place before it falls. If we can't escape, then all our efforts will have been in vain.'

-:-

**Ten hours later. **

It was almost nighttime when the bombardment finally took its its toll. The high walls of Newcastle, though protected by strong dispersion spells, were starting to buckle under the intense hail of fire, as rebels regrouped to launch one final assault with everything they had. The fortress was about to fall.

Jack was near the eastern wall when it crumbled down in a mound of debris under the brutal pounding. Within a matter of seconds, the dust cloud covered everything, blocking sight, as the deafening sound of tons and tons of rocks falling reverberated through the courtyard.

As Jack tried to gather as many men as he could to repel the imminent rebel attack, an enormous figure appeared through the smoke and dust, with a roar that rattled the very stones. The first rebels, armed with muskets and primitive bayonets, tried to assault the breach and were torn to bits by the iron-clad warrior, before he turned his head towards Jack:

'Organize your men, mortal. I will hold them at bay.' he said, before he started climbing the mound of rocks and rubble towards the enemy soldiers.

Jack stood in his place for a few seconds, then reacted and began giving out orders:

'Pikewall! Form a pikewall in front of the breach! Move, move, move!' he shouted.

The sixty men around him rushed to carry out their task, soon forming an iron-spiked barrier before the hole in the defences.

Meanwhile, Ghathrax was having the time of his life. His chainaxes were completely drenched with blood, as he cut, cleaved and teared at the enemies before him. Three men attacked the astartes from different directions. The first was shredded to ribbons by Derflinger, the second jerked backwards as a well aimed kick with an armored boot crushed his ribcage, and Hellcutter decapitated the third. A spearman tried to stab Ghathrax in the neck, but the spear broke. A quick slash, and the soldier fell to his knees with both his hands amputated.

Not a single enemy soldier was able to cross the breach for exactly seven minutes, as Ghathrax annihilated each and every one of the attackers with his axes. Bodies started to pile up under the astartes and around him, like grotesque monuments to violence and bloodshed. Soon, the rebels were climbing over mounds of their own dead comrades, slipping and losing balance with each step.

The Berserker seemed invulnerable, as he slaughtered blue-uniformed rebel soldiers, until something unexpected happened. A huge iron ball roughly the size of Ghathrax's head hit him in the chest, sending him flying backwards. The Space Marine soared the air over the heads of the royalist pikemen who awaited behind the breach, and violently impacted against the stables, bringing down the entire structure.

With a triumphant roar, the rebels redoubled their efforts and tried to cross the breach again. But then, they met the solid steel wall of Jack's pikemen. The long pikes wreaked havoc within the disorganized enemy troops, stabbing, thrusting, spearing.

'Hold! Stand your ground, men, and drive them back!' Jack shouted. 'For Albion, and for the Prince!'

The mass of enemies broke against the pikes like waves crashing against a rock. Dozens fell, mortally wounded or outright killed by the sharp spear points. Jack fired his pistol, killing an officer who barked orders, before drawing his wand-sword and pointing it at the rebels.

'_Ghul kersaë lhndan threol flamma!_' he chanted. Immediately, an enormous fire spear appeared in the air over his head. Then, Jack jerked his wand towards the enemy army, and the spear flew. The projectile hit in the middle, releasing a huge fiery explosion. Droves of men fell, flailing and thrashing in pain as the flames consumed them.

Such was the number of enemy troops, that the ones who came after pushed the ones in front against the pike wall, where the royalist spear-points awaited. The pikemen grunted and shouted, and pushed. Soon, it looked like the pikes would make another wall inside the breach. A wall made of corpses.

Jack then yelled:

'Push, men! Push! Advance, and hold the breach! Push!'

And they pushed. Rythmically chanting war cries, the royalist pikemen advanced, spearing and stabbing, every pike killing two or three men with each thrust. Sixty men held the gap in the wall, against thousands of enemies, and prevailed.

-:-

**Inside the keep. **

'The eastern wall has fallen! The eastern wall has fallen! Evacuate the women and children through the mountain tunnels, quick!'

That was the first thing Wales heard when he exited his room. Without a moment's thought, he put on his helm, unsheathed his sword, and shouted:

'Sons of Albion! Listen to me!'

Around a hundred men answered his call, and gathered around their Prince.

'Sons of Albion, now is the moment of truth! Here is where I will make my last stand! Will you stand with me too?'

The men roared in approval.

'Well, then take your weapons and follow me! I will always be in front of you, for death and glory!

'HUZZAH!'

And off they went.

-:-

**The Northern wall. **

Louise and Wardes were running over the wall in the middle of a brutal hand-to-hand combat. The rebels had set up siege ladders against the battlements and were now climbing them, trying to overcome the desperate defenders. Armed with swords, axes, knives, mauls, pistols and bayonets, the soldiers from each side tore at each other with unprecedented savagery and cruelty. Though the rebels outnumbered them 50 to 1, the royalists were possessed by an uncontrollable rage, and were making the rebels pay for every inch of the wall they took. Knights and commoners alike fought to kill as many enemies as they could before succumbing to the endless horde of rebel troops that swarmed the defences.

Below them, the gate had been blown off by an earth mage, and more enemies were pouring into the fortress. But a hundred men led by Prince Wales, who was clad in his black armor, charged against the incoming attackers, in a display of violence and bravery that few could hope to match.

'Louise, wait! What are you doing? We have to get out of here before it's too late!' Wardes shouted, over the clash of weapons and the roar of battle. A rebel tried to attack him from behind, but the mage sent him flying with a hammer made of solid air.

'We have to get to Prince Wales! Come on!' Louise shouted back. Suddenly, an enemy knight appeared in front of her. Swinging an axe, he went after her. Louise almost fell off the battlements, but she managed to jump back in the last moment, as the knight's axe cut the air just an inch from her nose. She fell on her back, and saw Wardes struggling with a soldier who was trying to stab him with a knife.

Louise tried to summon a fireball, but the knight kicked her in the elbow, making her scream in pain and drop the wand, which disappeared from sight. She watched in horror as the knight raised the axe over his head, intent on embedding it in her skull. She closed her eyes, and awaited for the blow. But then, she heard a loud _crack_, and a warm liquid splattered all over her face. Taken by surprise, Louise opened her eyes and saw a big, bald man with a smoking pistol in his hand standing behind the knight. The iron-clad warrior dropped the axe as he fell to one side and over the wall.

The bald man approached her and offered her his hand. She took it and used it as support to get up. She was about to thank her savior when she heard a brutal roar coming from the other side of the courtyard:

'BLOOD! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!'

Louise looked down and saw that Ghathrax had erupted from an enormous pile of rubble where the stables had been. The Berserker had slung both his chainaxes over his back, and was firing his oversized boltgun against the mass of rebels who were fighting against Prince Wales's men.

The explosive rounds punched into the rebel soldiers and exploded inside, blowing chunks of flesh and organs out of them and sending them flying backwards. The astartes then threw the boltgun to one side, having spent all of his ammunition, and charged towards the enemies who fought at the gate. He smashed into a group of minutemen who were reloading their muskets, using his bare hands to tear them apart. Then, after the last of them was brutally massacred, Ghathrax took his chainaxes again and resumed the slaughter.

When Louise looked up again, the bald man was gone. Louise saw him a few meters away, thrusting his sword into the chest of a spearman.

'Come on! Didn't you want to reach the Prince? He's down there! Let's go!' Wardes exclaimed, taking her hand and jumping off the wall. Using his wand, the Viscount summoned an air cushion to slow their fall.

Wales had momentarily retreated from battle, letting Ghathrax enjoy himself. He saw Louise and Wardes approach him, and smiled under his helm.

'Your familiar is quite useful, Miss Valliére. If only we'd had more like him at the beginning of the war.' he said.

'Prince Wales! Please, I beg you. The fortress won't hold much longer! You must escape! Albion will truly be lost if you are killed!' Louise screamed, all semblance of pride and nobility gone.

'Miss Valliére...' Wales began.

'Watch out!' a voice interrupted, before a huge explosion blew up part of the rampart above the gates.

**KBAAAAAAAAMMMMM! **

Louise, Wardes and Wales ducked, as splinters, rocks and chunks of bodies rained over the courtyard.

'Shit. We can't hold them here. Get to the keep, now.' Wales told Louise and Wardes, as he stood up again. 'Retreat! Back to the keep! Back to the keep!'

'Let's go, Louise! There's no more we can do! Come on!' Wardes said, practically dragging her towards the doors of the hold.

'BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!' Ghathrax bellowed.

The royalist troops retreated, running towards the keep. Some of them stood their ground, trying to buy time for their comrades to escape. The rebel troops pursued triumphantly, waving their flags and roaring praise to liberty, democracy and the Rebel Congress.

Suddenly, a double musketeer line surged from the hold. The front line knelt, and the rear line stood. They took aim and fired. Dozens of rebels fell. Then, the rear line advanced, knelt and began reloading. The rear line, formed by the faster reloaders, finished before the front line, and fired again. More enemies bit the dust. They advanced. The kneeling front line, now in the rear, stood up and fired again.

By doing this maneuver, the fifty musketeers killed over a hundred rebels and contained the incoming assailants for three minutes. That was all the time the remaining royalist troops needed to retreat back to the keep. Ghathrax was the last to enter the hold. Then, the musketeers formed a defensive ring around the doors, while the mages inside barred and sealed them with magic. Without ammunition, outnumbered more than four hundred to one, and with nowhere to retreat, the royalist soldiers entrusted their souls to the Founder and caused heavy casualties among the attackers, before being completely wiped out.

Newcastle had fallen.

**Well, that's it for Part 2. I hope you enjoyed. **

**As always, Fav and Follow if you liked it, and Review so that I can read your oppinion on the story. Thank you all. **

**See you again in 2-3 days! **


	11. Chapter 11: The Last Stand

**Chapter 11 is here! (Well, it's chapter 10, actually, but it's easier to keep track this way) **

**Anyways, on with the story! :)**

-:-

**Newcastle, inside the keep. Main hall. **

The door shook. The last fifty three royalist soldiers left alive crowded against it, tightly gripping their weapons. Wales sighed, and turned to face Louise.

'Newcastle has fallen. This is where we will make our last stand, Miss Valliére. You should go now, while you still can.' he said.

'What? How?' Louise asked. 'All the exits have been taken by the rebels!'

'Not all of them. There is a secret passage behind the throne. It will take you to the port. Three thousand wounded, women and children used the tunnel to get to my warship, the _Eagle. _I would like to ask you to lead what's left of my people to Tristain, that they may live in peace.' Wales said.

'Wait, what? You had a secret passage all along and you didn't use it to evacuate the entire castle before the siege?' Louise asked, incredulously.

Everyone turned to Louise. She blushed intensely. Wales then sheathed his sword and put his hand on a soldier's shoulder. He was a young boy, with terrible scars on the right side of his face, a hook for a hand and a missing eye.

'Jack will show you the way to the port.' the Prince said.

'What? No! I mean... my Prince! I wish to stay and fight!' Jack exclaimed, taking a step back.

'Please, my friend. Do this for me. It's my last command for you.' Wales said. Then, he took off his windstone ring and produced a wax-sealed document from his belt. He then offered both of them to Louise. 'Please, take this to Princess Henrietta. The ring will make her the true heir to the Albionese Crown once I'm dead. As for the document... it's my last will and testament. It will prove that I gave her my throne.'

Louise took them, with tears in her eyes.

'Why are you doing this? Why must you die? The Princess loves you! You have no other duty but to go to her! Not even Albion is so important!' Louise shouted.

'Miss Valliére, if I didn't fight here, I wouldn't be worthy of Princess Henrietta's love. What kind of man would put himself before his country? My honor will not allow me to leave. I'm determined to die here, for my country. If this is the end, I will make such an end that it will be remembered throughout the ages.'

Suddenly, a heavy and mechanic voice interrupted them.

'You're lying, little prince.'

Every person in the room turned, to see Ghathrax standing behind Wales.

'Excuse me?' the Prince said, taken by surprise.

'You're lying. You won't die for your country.' Ghathrax accused. 'You will only die for yourself. You only care about your name, your _reputation_. You just want to be remembered.'

'What are you talking about!?' Wales exclaimed, losing composure. 'This is what will save this country! If I escaped, Reconquista would label me as a traitor to my kingdom, winning the support of the people! No one would oppose them!'

Louise spoke, in a soft voice.

'I see. I wasn't sure of your real plan, Prince Wales, but now it's perfectly clear. By dying here, it would be Reconquista the ones labeled as murderers. Then, blinded by pain, the Princess would righteously invade Albion. The people would side with her, and then, nobody would lift a finger when she executed each and every member of the Rebel Congress... Very smart, Prince Wales. Your plan is to become a martyr. A banner, for all the nations in Halkeginia to follow. You never really loved the Princess. You would only use her as a tool. You probably don't even know what true love is.'

Wales unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Louise. Immediately, Wardes, who was standing behind Louise, unsheathed his own blade and stood between her and the Prince.

Wales spoke again, his teeth gritted with anger.

'And what do you know about love, child? You know nothing! Just as you know nothing of what I've been through, all these months! Do you have any idea of how I felt, when I desperately asked for help to save my country, and no one would listen?! Do you have any idea of what it is to fight, and kill men you've known for your entire life?! The same men who now hate you just because you were born in a palace, and they were born in farms?!'

Ghathrax looked at Louise from behind the Prince. She looked back at the astartes, and gave him a very slight nod.

'You mortals talk too much.' he said, just before his armored fist hit Wales's head. The Prince crumpled to the floor.

For a few seconds, nobody reacted. The soldiers nervously looked at each other, not knowing what to do. Then, the big bald man who had saved Louise's life on the northern wall approached.

'The rebels will break in soon. Go, and take Prince Wales with you. We'll hold them off.' he said.

Wardes lowered his sword.

'Why are you doing this?' he asked.

'Because honor is important, but the Prince must survive. If he does, maybe one day the throne of Albion will return to its rightful heir.' the bald man said. The door shook violently, and the soldiers who held it in place grunted, trying to keep it from opening.

'Thank you for your sacrifice.' Louise said. 'May I ask your name?'

The bald man nodded.

'My name is Mr. Gray. I was once known as Sir Micah Gray, Baron of Westshire.' he answered.

'I'll remember it.' Louise said, closing her fist and placing it over her heart.

Wardes flicked his wand, and a gentle gust of wind lifted Prince Wales, leaving him floating horizontally in mid-air.

'Let us go, dear Louise. There's nothing more we can do here.' Wardes said.

Louise nodded. Then, as she turned to follow the Viscount to the throne room, she heard Mr. Gray speak again.

'You go too, young Jack. The Prince's orders are still the Prince's orders.'

'But- no! I can't go while you all stay and die!' Jack exclaimed.

'Leave. The Prince will need you soon. Serve him in our name. Remember us.'

'I... yes, Mr. Gray.' Jack said, before turning and heading towards Louise and Wardes. He didn't look back.

Then, Ghathrax spoke.

'Master. I will stay here and fight. I will follow as soon as I calculate that you have reached safety.' he said.

Louise turned.

'Umm... alright, familiar. But don't get killed. I still need you.' she answered.

Ghathrax nodded to her words and prepared his axes. The door shook brutally, and one of the protection runes cracked. The magical defences flickered for a moment.

'Come on, Louise! If we don't hurry, the ship may sail without us!' Wardes exclaimed.

'Yes, I'm coming!' the girl answered.

Ghathrax watched Louise, Wardes and Jack disappear behind a corner with Prince Wales's knocked out body, heading to the throne room. Then, he activated his chainaxes. The two weapons buzzed to life, as another rune in the door cracked under the enormous pressure of dozens of attack spells.

Mr. Gray stood next to the astartes and began speaking out loud:

'It is time, men! Now is the moment we show these rebel dogs what we're made of! They want democracy and liberty? Well, then they'll have to fight and die for it! We will not step back! I have confidence in you all! I trust you to be brave and hold the line, one last time! For Albion! For the Prince!'

The door exploded in a shower of splinters. A wave of smoke washed over the royalist soldiers, as the rebels charged into the keep.

A few musketeers fired their weapons, and a dozen rebel soldiers fell. Then, with a loud roar, the royalists surged forward to meet their enemies. A fierce hand-to-hand combat broke out, as men in both sides fought savagely, cutting, cleaving and stabbing each other to death.

The rebels were inflamed. Victory was within their grasp.

A few seconds later, Ghathrax joined the battle. Many years later, on their deathbeds, survivors of the brutal battle would assure they saw a demon walk the earth that night. Like a whirlwind of death, the Berserker tore through the mass of rebels, as limbs, chunks of flesh and blood splatters flew everywhere. Enemies would scream, die, or try to escape, but Ghathrax finished them off just as easily.

Some were brave enough to take on the astartes, though. Marshal Anderson of the rebel army and some men attacked the Space Marine, hoping to reach a weak spot and eliminate him. It was useless. The first soldier, a spearman, attacked too soon. The rebel's weak weapon was cut in half by Derflinger, and as Ghathrax whirled around, Hellcutter decapitated the man. The second was more cautious. He waited for the astartes to launch his attack and tried to block it with his sword, but the adamantium chainaxes simply cut through the sword, armor and flesh. As both halves of the enemy soldier fell, Ghathrax laughed like a maniac. The last two soldiers attacked one after the other. The first, a musketeer, tried to stab Ghathrax with his bayonet. The blade bounced off the astartes's breastplate and got entangled between the chains that hanged from it. A quick chainaxe slash later, the soldier was missing both of his arms.

Ghathrax decapitated the screaming man, and stepped forward as the last soldier charged against him. Marshal Anderson followed, his sword gleaming. The rebel soldier ducked and rolled under Ghathrax, as the astartes's chainaxes cut the air over his head. Then, jumping up, he grabbed Ghathrax's arms. Desperation gave him the strength to hold the enormous Chaos Space Marine.

'Now, Marshal!' he shouted, as the Berserker's arms slowly crushed him.

Anderson slashed his sword against the astartes's neck, but the blade broke against the Berserker's helmet. The man stepped back, holding the shattered weapon. He heard a muffled scream and a sickening crunch, and the other soldier fell to the ground in a bloodied heap.

An irresistible impulse to kneel and beg for forgiveness grew inside Anderson's chest as the Space Marine approached him. He had no time to even utter a word before being shredded to ribbons.

-:-

**The secret tunnel. **

'How much further?' Louise asked. The tunnel was as dark as night, and the humid air smelled of rot and moss. Jack walked in front, holding a torch. Louise followed, and Wardes was behind them, holding Wales in his magically summoned air cushion. Only the light from Jack's torch lit the tunnel.

'We're almost there. Keep your eyes open and shut your mouth.' Jack replied.

'Hey! What's your problem!?' Louise exclaimed.

'Leave it be, Louise.' Wardes said behind them. 'We'll be out soon, so have a little patience.'

Louise muttered a curse.

'I hope Ghathrax is okay...' she said, frowning in concern.

The girl then felt Wardes's hand on her shoulder. His contact comforted her.

'Don't worry. I'm sure he'll be just fine.' Wardes said. But suddenly, his hand gripped her very tight and pulled her backwards towards him. Louise let out a small yelp, but she immediately became silent as she saw the wand hovering next to her head. 'It's a shame we won't be able to say the same thing about you... or Prince Wales for that matter.'

Jack turned, and saw Wardes holding a wand to the girl's head. Wales was lying on the ground, and he was not moving. The boy drew his sword, but then Wardes pressed the point of his wand against Louise's neck.

'Ah, ah, ah. Let's not be hasty, kid. Throw that away, or the girl gets it.' he said, with a devious smile.

Jack complied, and the sword clanked against the rocky ground.

'Wardes! What are you doing!? Stop this joke right now!' Louise said.

'I'm not joking, beloved Louise. I'm a part of Reconquista, and you, Prince Wales and those letters are my objectives... Void descendant.'

'Void descendant? What the hell are you talking about, fool? There hasn't been a Void user for six thousand years!' Jack exclaimed.

'Wrong, boy. There are four Void users now. But Louise... Louise is special. She's destined for great things. I take it you've never heard of the Prophecy of the Void Berserker... am I right?' Wardes said.

'Void Berserker? What is that?' Jack asked.

'The Void Berserker is the greatest killing machine of all times. It is said that Brimir himself became the first Void Berserker when his lover, the familiar Lyfbrasir, died after he casted the Genocide spell to anihilate the Metal Warriors from the East.' Wardes said, smiling. 'Imagine the raw power of the Void Berserker, harnessed to conquer the known world! To unite all Halkeginia under Reconquista's banner!'

'You're mad! I will never fight for Reconquista! Why are you doing this?' Louise shouted.

'Oh, you will. First, I'll kill Prince Wales, and then I'll use the Ring of Andvari to bend you to Reconquista's designs.' Wardes replied, with an evil laugh.

'The Ring of Andvari?' Jack asked.

'It's a ring that can provide a false soul to a person's body, dead or alive! The person is then bound to follow the ring-bearer's orders!' Louise shouted.

'You're a madman! Let the girl and the Prince go, and fight me, you coward!' Jack bellowed.

Suddenly, Wardes let out a loud scream. Louise had bitten his hand and torn out a chunk of flesh. Wardes's fingers released her, and Jack surged forward. His fist slammed into the man's cheek.

Wardes went down on one knee and spit blood. Then, he raised his wand.

'So you want to do this the hard way... that's alright. You will lose anyways. You're no match for me.' he said, his teeth showing in a shark smile.

-:-

**The Main Hall. **

'Come on, boys! Show these royalist scum what free men are made of! Take no prisoners!' a rebel commander shouted, over the roar of battle and the furious clash of swords.

Only a handful of royalists were left alive, holding in a tight circle in the center of the hall. The soldiers were gathered around a giant crimson figure that wouldn't stop laughing like a madman as it massacred rebel soldiers.

The bodies of the dead were scattered over the marble floor all around the circle of desperate royalists. Mr. Gray was dead, as were most officers, and the soldiers were only able to maintain morale thanks to the Berserker's rage-filled roars.

Something strange was happening. There was some sort of presence there, between the royalists, that compelled them to respond to Ghathrax's shouts:

'BLOOD!'

'FOR THE BLOOD GOD!' the men shouted back.

Swords, spears, axes.

'SKULLS!'

'FOR THE SKULL THRONE!'

Blood, screams, death.

'SOULS!'

'FOR THE SOUL EATER!'

The mass of rebels crashed against the defensive circle, again and again and again. The battle was almost over. In their death throes, the royalist soldiers fiercely resisted one last time. They reorganized to face the final charge, as they bellowed Ghathrax's battle cry in unison.

KILL! MAIM! BURN! KILL! MAIM! BURN! KILL! MAIM! BURN!

'THE ENEMY IS HERE! STAND FIRM, AND PUSH THEM BACK! FOR THE DARK GODS!' Ghathrax roared.

The men roared back in approval, standing firm, like heroes, like gods, like demons, until the tide of steel reached them. They all died in their post, roaring defiantly, fighting to the last while their fortress burned around them. It was glorious. And in a far, far away place, where sanity was non-existent and blood was shed on a daily basis, a being of incommensurable power stirred and looked upon the little world, as three hundred skulls filled gaps in its throne, one by one.

-:-

Jack fell to the ground, clutching his wounded arm. Louise was a few meters away, protecting Wales's unconscious body. Wardes towered over Jack, and pointed his sword at the boy's throat.

'Face it, kid. You lost. And now, you will pay the price for your failure.' he said, grinning like a maniac.

Louise looked at the man she had once loved, and her heart sank. He wasn't himself anymore. Greed and lust for power had destroyed him. With tears in her eyes, she took Wales's sword and charged against Wardes.

The Viscount turned around and parried the blow with ease. Then, in a fluid movement, he disarmed the girl and backhanded her. Louise fell to the ground, her cheek throbbing like it was on fire. Wardes laughed.

'What is it, little Louise? You have the power to destroy me. You just have to look inside you, claim it for yourself and seal your destiny! Come on! Show me the power of the Void Berserker!'

'Never! I will never bow to your wishes! You're not yourself anymore, Wardes! And it's my duty as a noble of Tristain to stop your treachery!' Louise shouted.

'You can't beat me, little girl! I'm too strong! I'm stronger than you can even imagine! And you are nothing! Just a little Zero, with no magical capabilities because you won't pay the price to be the greatest wizard of all times! You don't deserve that power! It should be mine! All mine!' Wardes yelled, foam coming out of his mouth.

'Wardes, please! Come back to your senses! You can still redeem yourself!' Louise pleaded.

Jack slowly pulled his pistol out, and pointed at the mage.

'It's over now! If you won't fight for Reconquista, you will die! And so will your pathetic Prince, and Princess Henrietta, and everyone you ever loved!' Wardes roared, as he raised his wand to finish Louise off. The girl closed her eyes, and waited for the coup de grace... but it never came.

Instead, she heard a loud whirr coming from the shadows behind Wardes, and her eyes flew open again. Ghathrax was suddenly next to the noble, his armor dripping blood. The astartes leaned closer to Wardes.

'I'm going to enjoy this.' he said, grabbing Wardes by the neck and slamming him against the wall.

'Hkk- Gll- You! But you were...!' Wardes managed to let out.

'Yes, I was. The royalists are all dead now. But I made you a promise. I told you a day would come when my master wouldn't protect your useless life. Remember what I promised I would do then?' Ghathrax said, with a cruel laugh.

Louise turned her head just in time to avoid watching Ghathrax carry out his bloody work. But she could _hear_ it. A loud scream, cut short by a brutal crunch and a wet suction sound, marked the end of Viscount Wardes, Captain of the Tristainian Griffin Guard.

Louise then heard her familiar's heavy footsteps approaching, before her vision blurred. She was able to see Ghathrax pick up Wales and Jack, just as her mind slipped into the darkness.

**Sorry I didn't post yesterday, guys. I was suffering from MAJOR Writer's Block. I didn't have time to edit before posting, so I'm sorry about that too. I hope you enjoyed nevertheless. **

**Please, follow and fav if you liked this, and don't forget to review. **

**See you guys in 2-3 days! **


	12. Chapter 12: Silence before the storm

**Chapter 12 is up. **

**This chapter is a bit short, but don't worry.**** It's just that I want the entire battle of Tarbes to be on the same chapter, without cuts.**

**I hope the story isn't advancing too fast or too slow. If it is, tell me. I'll do my best to correct it.**

**Anyways, on with the story! :D**

**Author correction: I'll post on Sunday afternoon, instead of Saturday. I have to deal with some familiar issues.**

-:-

**Newcastle, the morning after the fall of the fortress. **

The new day dawned over the still burning ruins of Newcastle. Thousands of men lay littering the ground, butchered, left to rot in the sun. Crows and vultures flew in circles over the battlefield, diving in from time to time to feast on the flesh of the dead.

The republican army stood to attention, flags and banners flying in the morning breeze, as a wagon made its way to the front. General Magnus and Marshal Neville got off their horses, and approached the vehicle as it halted in front of them. The curtain that closed it was removed, and a tall blond man in fine clothes came out. The man wrinkled his nose, as the foul stench of the battleground assaulted his nostrils.

General Magnus saluted.

'Dictator Cromwell.' he said. 'I hope your journey was pleasant.'

'Yes, it was, General. This part of the country is beautiful this time of the year.' the Dictator replied, walking towards the command tent. 'I was hoping to be present when the fortress fell, but I see you already took care of it.'

'I did indeed, Mr. Dictator.' Magnus replied.

The two men walked in silence for some seconds, as Neville followed them.

'Where is Marshal Anderson, General? I was told he was here with you.' Cromwell asked.

'He fell.' Magnus answered.

'I am sorry to hear that. How did he die?' Cromwell inquired.

'Someone... some_thing_ ripped him to pieces as he led the final assault into the keep.' the General said, feeling a shiver crawl up his spine.

'I've known you for thirteen years, General Magnus, and I've never seen you afraid. Tell me. What troubles you?' Cromwell asked, noticing the other man's discomfort.

'The Red Angel.' Neville said, behind them.

Cromwell turned.

'The what?'

'The Red Angel is a monster. An iron-clad warrior, at least seven feet tall, who can best a hundred men by himself. He's killed more than a thousand of our men in the last two days, before disappearing without a trace.' Neville said.

'I'm sure our brave troops successfully eliminated him. They haven't recovered the body yet, I presume. I would really like to have a look at that "Red Angel" of yours.' Cromwell said, scratching his chin.

'No trace has been found of a body, Mr. Dictator.' Magnus said. 'Whatever it was, I fear we'll be seeing it again.'

'Anyways, are all royalists dead?' Cromwell asked, changing the subject.

'Most of them, Dictator.' Neville said.

'What do you mean, most of them?' the man inquired.

'We spotted two vessels leaving the port, soon after Newcastle fell. One was the personal warship of Prince Wales, the _Eagle_, and the other one is a Tristainian transport frigate, the _Marie Galante_.' Magnus said.

'Wait a moment. Was Prince Wales captured, as I instructed?' Cromwell asked, suspicion creeping over him.

'No, Mr. Dictator. We found no trace of him.' Neville answered. 'It seems he made his escape through a tunnel located behind the throne in the main hall. Oh, and we also found the cadaver of a man. A noble, by the looks of him. The body bears the coat of arms of the House of Tristain, and his heart has been ripped out of his chest and forced into his mouth.'

'Damn.' Cromwell cursed.

'The war is now over anyways, Mr. Dictator. Isn't it about time you return your emergency powers to the Chamber of Commons?' General Magnus asked.

'There will be a change of plans, General. Looks like the war isn't over just yet. It seems like the Princess of Tristain is somehow involved with Wales's escape and the death of thousands of men here at Newcastle.' Cromwell said, stopping abruptly. 'I think it's time to show the world what happens when they decide to interfere with the struggle of a country to become free.

-:-

**Royal Palace of Tristain, two days after the fall of Newcastle. **

Louise knelt before Princess Henrietta. She winced in pain, since her wounds weren't completely healed. The elbow where the albionese knight had kicked her on the walls of Newcastle was now wrapped in a cast, and a nasty bruise had formed over her left eye, where Wardes had struck her.

'Your Highness, I have completed your mission. The letters are safely in the hands of Cardinal Mazarin.' she said.

'I thank you, Louise Françoise, my dear friend...' the Princess answered, but her gaze was elsewhere, fixed on someone a few meters behind. There, between Guiche and Ghathrax, stood Prince Wales. Only three other people were present apart from them. A terribly scarred boy who stood behind Wales, Cardinal Mazarin, to the right of the Princess, and Agnes, to the left.

Henrietta could not believe her eyes. He was there. Not only had her beloved Prince survived, but he was there. To see Wales so close and yet so far, to not be able to run to him, hug him, kiss him, and tell him that she didn't want to be separated from him ever again, was pure agony.

Everything seemed so unreal. Nothing mattered, except their eyes, fixed on each other, drinking from the sight of the other.

'Your Highness, did you hear me?' Agnes said. The woman looked concerned.

'I'm sorry, Agnes. What were you saying?' Henrietta said, forcing herself to look away from Wales.

'This messenger brings an urgent dispatch from the Marquis of Tarbes, your Higness.' Cardinal Mazarin said, pointing to a man who had just entered the throne room.

The man was panting heavily, and dropped to his knees before the Princess.

'Your Higness! The Marquis of Tarbes is sends word of an Albionese invasion!'

'An Albionese invasion?' Henrietta exclaimed. 'What is the word? Speak quickly, man!'

'The Albionese have launched an attack on the village of Tarbes with 4,000 men. They will reach the Forest of Mésnil in two days. A massive ship leads them.' the messenger explained.

'It's the _Lexington_.' Wales said.

'What's the _Lexington_?' Louise asked.

Jack stepped forward.

'The _Lexington _is the biggest ship in the Albionese Armada. It was originally the _Royal Sovereign_, the flagship of His Majesty's Fleet, before the rebels captured it and renamed it after the first victory they snatched from the royal armies.' he said. 'It has 108 cannons, and it's almost invincible.'

'And what about the Marquis's army? What is he doing to protect my people?' Henrietta asked.

'Your Highness... the Marquis is dead. His army's numbers were too few. He only had four hundred knights under his command. They were swept from the battlefield, at Baltair Hill. Only I could escape to bring you these news. All the other messengers have been killed.'

Everyone was shocked. An entire feudal army, anihilated.

'Cardinal Mazarin.' Henrietta said.

'Yes, your Highness?' the Cardinal asked.

'Assemble the army. We will march for Tarbes tomorrow at first light.'

'As you command.'

'But, Your Highness, we have no men to defend the village! They will be overrun before we can reach them!' Agnes intervened.

Henrietta sat heavily on her throne.

'It's true. There are no more armies between the Albionese and Tarbes. But what else can we do? Mobilizing an army takes time!'

'Wrong. We do have men.' Louise then said.

Everyone turned to her.

'Louise?' Henrietta asked, confused.

'We do have troops close to Tarbes.' Louise repeated.

'What do you mean?' the Princess inquired.

'Ghathrax... I mean, my familiar, has an... army... of men loyal to him, in the Forest of Mésnil. We can use them to delay the Albionese until the Royal Hosts arrive.' Louise said, suddenly self-conscious and embarrased.

'Louise... what do you mean, your familiar has an army? Have you been recruiting troops behind my back? I thought... I thought we were friends! I thought you would never betray me!' Henrietta exclaimed.

'I- It's not like that! I wasn't preparing a rebellion, Your Highness, I swear to the Founder! May Brimir strike me dead if I'm lying!' Louise shouted, fear creeping its way up her throat.

Ghathrax intervened.

'She's telling the truth, little princess. If I had any intention of using my men to attack you, I would have already done it.'

Henrietta closed her eyes, trying to think. After a few seconds, she opened them again.

'Very well. Your familiar and his... men... will fight off the invaders until I arrive with the army. We'll talk about this later, Louise.' she said, regaining composure.

-:-

**Forest of Mésnil, 80 miles from Tarbes. Ten minutes after the meeting in the throne room.**

Siesta almost choked herself with a cup of water when Ghathrax appeared in front of her inside the main tent in the cultist camp.

'M-my Lord! What-?'

'This is a communication portal, opened by one of the little princess's mages. I'm not really here.' Ghathrax interrupted her.

'Y-yes, my Lord. What... what are y-you doing here, i-if you don't m-mind the question?' the former maid stuttered, trying to wipe the water off of her red dress.

'I have a task for you, girl.' the astartes said.

'A-anything, my Lord.'

'You will gather every man able to bear arms in the camp, and march to Tarbes. Then, you will kill all the Albionese invaders you find. Understood? I will be there tomorrow.' Ghathrax said.

'B-but my Lord, I'm not a commander.' Siesta objected.

'You are now.' the astartes said, before he disappeared.

Siesta stood inside the tent for a few minutes, thinking. The cult had grown considerably in the last month. It now counted more than 10,000 adepts, roughly an 8% of the Tristainian population, at least half of them healthy men capable of bearing arms. But how in hell was Siesta now supposed to organize them to march into battle?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a young man in red armor who entered the tent.

'My lady, we heard voices. Are you well? Were you having a vision?' he asked, a concerned look on his face.

'No, thank you, Marcel. I'm fine.' the girl said, smiling warmly. She had always liked Marcel. He was the only man in the camp who talked to her about other things than disemboweling people. 'Call the other Crimson Knights. War is coming.' she continued, in her best "prophet of the Gods" voice.

'Yes, my lady. Shall I muster the army?' he asked.

'Yes, please. Oh, and send a messenger to Tarbes. Tell them to evacuate the village immediately.' Siesta said.

'As you command, my lady.'

Three hours later, the three commanders of the cult were gathered around Siesta. They were enormous, clad in blood-red and crimson armor.

'Well, Prophet. What is it you wanted to talk to us about?' commander Beaumont said.

'I received word from the Red Angel, three hours ago.' Siesta said, magnificently interpreting her role as the mystical leader of the cult. 'He commands us to take the army to Tarbes. Apparently, there is an Albionese force nearby. Our task is simple. Find them, and kill them all.'

'Albionese? I thought they were killing each other back in their own island!' another commander said.

'Looks like they aren't anymore.' the third one intervened. 'I will take the Crimson Knights to Curstag Hill. When they attack Tarbes, I'm guessing they will try to cross the Serein to cut off any refugees trying to escape, so their rear will be momentarily exposed as they cross the river. I will seize that opportunity.'

'Thank you, commander Allard.' Siesta said. 'Any more ideas?'

'Marcel and me will take half of the men with Allard, to support their attack.' Beaumont then said.

'Good.' Siesta approved. 'Then, it falls to you and your men to hold the riverbank, commander Lapointe.'

'Yes, my Prophet.' the man said, bowing his head.

'Very well, gentlemen.' Siesta said, getting up. She placed a closed fist over her heart. 'Death or Glory'

The three commanders repeated the gesture, as they too got up.

'Death or Glory.'

-:-

**I hope you enjoyed, guys. As I said, I'll post again on Sunday instead of Saturday. **

**Also, there will be sexual content on the next chapter, so I'm going to change the rating from T to M. **

**As always, fav and follow if you like the story. Also, reviews do a lot to boost my confidence on the story. I'm very pleased that all reviews up until now are being positive. Thank you all. **

**See ya! **


	13. Chapter 13: The Battle of Tarbes

**Chapter 13 is up! Not a bad posting rate, considering this is my first fanfic, wouldn't you agree? **

**As I said, the story will become "M" as of this chapter for sexual themes. **

**Enjoy, people!**

**River Serein, 8 miles from Tarbes. **

Commander Allard took off his horned helm and scanned the hills for any sign of the Albionese army. The moon was covered by thick clouds that night, making it very difficult to see anything. When Allard was sure that nothing moved on the other side, he raised his hand.

'Begin crossing the river. Stay together and don't make a sound.' he ordered.

Marcel and Beaumont, who were next to the commander, got off their horses and proceeded on foot. 2,700 men followed them, entering the cold, fast waters of the Serein. As the army waded the river, Allard turned his head towards the distant village of Tarbes, and saw Lapointe's and Siesta's forces camping near the road, torches and bonfires burning high, to draw any unwanted attention.

The crossing slowly progressed for some three hours. A few men lost their balance and fell, drowning in the cold waters or being swept by the current. Supplies and lives were lost over the night, but by the time the moon was highest in the sky, the entire force had successfully waded the Serein.

Allard let his men rest for a few minutes, before they resumed the march towards Curstag Hill.

-:-

**Royal Palace of Tristania. Princess Henrietta's room. **

Henrietta entered her chambers, closed the door and sat heavily on her bed. She thought about Louise, and her familiar's "army". Henrietta knew that worrying about her friend betraying her was stupid, but Ghathrax... he just scared her. The enormous familiar was helping them for some unknown reason, but Henrietta wasn't a fool. She knew that he was something far more powerful and evil than any of their enemies, and that was an assumption she wasn't making just on a few skulls hanging from chains on the warrior's breastplate.

Henrietta knew that Ghathrax helped them as easily as he could have helped their enemies, and if she and her subjects were benefitting from that help, it was because he was Louise's familiar, not because of any misguided sense of loyalty or morals.

Lost in her thoughts, she got up and began undressing to go to bed. Then, as she put on her nightgown, she heard a knock on the window. The Princess turned, and her heart skipped a beat. Prince Wales was floating right outside the balcony, with a smile on his face.

The girl ran to open the window.

'Wales! W- what are you doing here? It's late!' Henrietta exclaimed.

'I don't know. I just wanted to see you, that's all.' he said, as he stepped onto the balcony and jumped into the room. 'I missed you, Henrietta.'

She blushed.

'I... I missed you too.'

Wales's smile widened, as he opened his arms.

'Well, I'm here now. Aren't you going to give me a hug?'

Henrietta didn't need to be told twice. She rushed towards him and hugged him. He put his arms around her too, and they fused in a warm, tight embrace. Henrietta could feel both their hearts beating like war drums.

'I thought you would never come back...' the Princess whispered.

He was silent for a few seconds.

'For a moment there, I thought so too.' Wales answered, also in a low voice.

Henrietta slightly pulled away, not breaking the hug, to look him in the eye.

'You would have forfeited me for the sake of honor?' she asked.

Wales sighed.

'It all seemed more clear when I was over there. But now I'm not so sure.' he said. 'When I was dragged aboard the ship by Miss Valliére's familiar, I resisted. I wished to die with my men. But instead, I was forced to watch as the last reduct of my home burned.'

Henrietta scowled at him.

'Don't you talk like that. If you had died... do you have any idea of how I would have felt? My life wouldn't have a meaning anymore.' she said, tears forming in her eyes. 'Besides, what's left of your people arrived in those ships too. You have a duty towards those people. You have a duty... towards me. I don't care about that Germanian prince I'm supposed to marry. I just want you by my side, forever.'

'Don't worry. When I was there, at Newcastle... just a few hours before the end... I thought I could make the decision of living or dying without any regard for your feelings. But now, as I stand here, with you close to me, I realise that making that decision alone is just... unbearable. My men died for their country. I owe them to do my best to revive the ideal for which they gave their lives.' Wales replied, holding Henrietta closer and resting her head against his chest.

After a few seconds of silence, Henrietta spoke again.

'Hey... how long were you watching through the window?'

Wales chuckled softly.

'Long enough.'

Henrietta raised her head so her eyes would meet his.

'You know... It's very rude to spy on a girl when she's changing her clothes...' she said, a playful smile on her lips.

He leaned over, and whispered in her ear:

'It's also very interesting.'

Henrietta blushed intensely, and closed her eyes.

Wales then smiled, lifted her chin, and lightly kissed her in the lips.

The young princess felt as if she was melting. Her knees buckled so hard that she would've fallen down had it not been for his arms holding her up. Shyly at first, daringly later, their tongues overcame the barrier of the teeth, engaging in a new form of frantic dance.

The two lovers broke the kiss for air, breathing heavily for a few seconds before merging their mouths together again, desperately trying to make up for the agonizing years they had been apart.

Henrietta lightly pushed Wales to her bed, making him sit on it. Then, lifting the lower part of her nightgown up to her thighs, she sat on his lap, facing him. The prince broke the kiss for a moment and pulled back. His face was flustered, and he was breathing heavily.

'Wait, wait. Are you sure... are you sure you want to go on? What about the pact with the Germanians?' he said, with effort.

'To Hell with the Germanians. I want to be yours tonight, Wales. And I want you to be mine. I want to marry you, and have some kids, and live happily ever after. Can you give me that, Prince of Albion?' the girl replied, placing a soft hand on his cheek.

Wales didn't respond. Instead, he kissed her more fiercely than before, as Henrietta pulled her nightgown over her head, revealing herself to him.

The Prince had never seen anything or anyone so beautiful in his life. His hands traveled all over her body, caressing her sides, grazing the soft skin of her belly and gently kneading her breasts. Wales took his time, swirling his fingers around Henrietta's nipples and leaving a trail of kisses from her lips to her collarbone, as she sighed in pleasure.

The girl's hands worked their way through Wales's jacket and shirt, baring his torso. The Prince wasn't very muscular, but years of training and fighting had toned his body, and it was evident that he was stronger than he looked. Henrietta kissed the recent bullet-wound scar in his right shoulder, as her fingers explored the rest of the markings on his body, some older, some new.

Soon, the last traces of clothing were removed, and the young lovers lay down on the cool sheets of the bed. They kissed again, their warm mouths battling for dominance. Wales's lips journeyed downwards from Henrietta's jawline, over her neck, collarbone, breasts, belly and the inner side of her thighs.

He located the wet spot between her legs, and applied his tongue generously. The girl arched her back as she felt a jolt of pleasure in every muscle of her body. Her hands grabbed handfuls of Wales's blond hair.

He paused for a few seconds, and then started over, his fingers and tongue working together in harmony, as Henrietta let out small gasps and moans. She felt strange warm explosions inside her with every movement, every small ministration, every light touch against her most sensitive place.

Suddenly, Wales shifted upwards and, kissing her hard in the lips, he slid himself into her. Pain and pleasure washed over the young princess, and she dug her nails into his shoulders, as she muffled a scream against his mouth.

They stopped, locked together in a wet, warm and pulsing grip. Then, Wales moved again, his hips making a tight circling motion, as Henrietta moaned and whimpered in pleasure.

Their bodies danced frantically, to the rythm of a melody only they could hear. And as they both came close to their climax, the Princess felt Wales groan against her neck.

Suddenly, all of Wales's muscles tensed, as he spilled his seed into Henrietta, who was thrown over the edge as well. And as their orgasms hit them with the force of a whirlwind, the girl thought she was going to sob in pure ecstasy.

They separated, and talked to each other in a low voice. The shadow of the incoming battle was banished from their minds during the few hours the young prince and princess spent together, loving each other, enjoying their mutual company, until the sun came up.

And with it, came war.

-:-

**The banks of the River Serein, less than a mile from the bridge of Tarbes. **

The new day dawned over the plains of Tarbes. Autumn had long since started, and the cool morning breeze formed ripples over the half-harvested wheat fields behind Siesta's and Commander Lapointe's small force. Thick storm clouds gathered over the soon-to-be battlefield, ready to release their load.

Siesta shivered at the sight of the albionese army. It was much bigger than she had initially thought. Several communications via sight-portal from the Tristanian High Command had initially numbered the enemy army in 4,000 men, but they were clearly incorrect, for the albionese forces gathered on the other side of the Serein at least doubled that number. The only thing stopping them was that Siesta had ordered the bridge of Tarbes to be burned.

Still, it was only a matter of time for the enemy commanders to lose patience and order the army to wade the river and engage the 2,300 men commanded by Siesta and Lapointe. Siesta wasn't a commander, but every member of the cult had basic knowledge of battle tactics. She couldn't quite explain it. It was as if the ferocious god whom they served was blessing them with even more gifts.

But even so, Siesta knew her troops wouldn't have a chance against an enemy that outnumbered them three to one. If Ghathrax and the Princess's army didn't arrive in time, the cult would be swept from the field and Tarbes would burn.

"Well," she thought "there's no point in worrying now. There's only one way to end this."

'Commander, begin deploying the troops in battle formation.' she said.

'Yes, my Prophet.' Lapointe said. As he rode off to carry out the order, the commander unsheathed his sword and shouted a loud, inarticulated battle cry to gain the attention of his men.

The albionese troops stood to attention in orderly lines. They were trained professional soldiers, and they were very well armed and equipped. All of them were battle-proven troopers, reliable in any situation.

Half of the army was formed by the veteran 19th Foot Regiment, who had massacred the royalist knights during the Battle of Black Hill. The other half was covered by the 2nd Spear Regiment, hardened warriors who'd had their baptism of fire on the hallowed ground of Lexington, back when the Albionese Revolution had just started. They had been the first unit to kill their officers and swear loyalty to the Republic.

The Khornate warriors, on the other hand, occupied the southern side of the Serein. They formed a single mass of heavily armed men, and they all shouted brutal war cries and waved all manner of weapons. Some held ragged banners and standards with abominable and obscene runes, which seemed to change with each look.

Siesta watched as the crowd of warriors occupied the entire bank, forming a wall of bronze and iron. Some were armored, and wore chainmail and horned helms. Others displayed their bare chests, covered in war paint. War drums beat rythmically, inflaming the horde.

Then, without warning, it began. With a clear sound of horns, trumpets and fifes, the albionese army advanced. The horde stirred. A roar spread through the ranks as the drums frantically increased the beating rate.

The enemy soldiers marched in unison, stomping the ground and chanting, until they reached the river. The front ranks slowed their pace, making an effort to not be dragged by the cold current, as eight thousand men began crossing the Serein.

Siesta galloped towards Lapointe. Her voice changed to a strange tone, as if she was not herself. A red aura glowed around her.

'When the first of them cross the river, order the charge. Hold them until the advance stalls. Then, we will give the signal.' she said.

'Yes, my Prophet.' the commander said. Then, he stood on his spurs, and raised his sword. 'Prepare to charge!'

The first raindrops fell. The water beads clinked against helmets, armor and weapons, in harmony with the drums of the horde. Rain fell in torrents, and thunder echoed above.

The albionese soldiers struggled against the current, units momentarily losing their coherence. But their superior training kicked in and they swiftly recovered their pace. Slowly, but surely, the first soldiers emerged from the river. Their numbers steadily increased, as they reformed the battle line. And then, as the warhorns emitted a single, clear note, the horde lunged forward.

At ten meters, the republican musketeers assumed firing positions, their bayonets fixed, and their arms loaded. At five meters, they fired. The detonation challenged the roar of the storm, as the lead bullets impacted into flesh, bone, and iron. Scores of men fell, staining the mud with red splatters. Less than a second later, the Khornate warriors smashed into the steady, gleaming, bayonet wall. Screaming war cries to the top of their lungs, both armies clashed savagely, cleaving, thrusting, stabbing, cutting.

For a moment, the albionese troops faltered. The horde pushed them back, threatening to drive them back into the cold waters of the Serein. Feet slipped in the mud, sergeants barked orders and men roared, and pressed forward. Slowly, but steadily, the Khornates' crazed advance decelerated, until they fully stopped.

Siesta watched as her small force punched into the mass of albionese soldiers, anihilating everything in their path. Axes, swords and maces met bayonets, spears and muskets, in a display of utmost violence and madness.

Both sides were taking heavy losses. The former maid saw an enormous warrior kill two enemy soldiers by smashing their heads together, before being decapitated by an officer. The officer himself was then felled by an axe which embedded itself in his skull.

Rain kept pouring over both armies, as the numerically superior and better trained albionese troops slowly pushed the Khornates back.

Lapointe raised his sword over his head, and with an eager battle shout, he led the reserves into battle. The commander slashed his sword against an unfortunate musketeer. A Khornate was momentarily lifted over the mass of struggling bodies by a long spear that had embedded itself in his gut. Then, the shaft broke, and the man fell down again.

The roar of the fray was deafening. Blood ran, mixing with the muddy soil, and becoming a reddish brown sludge that sucked the boots of the men fighting on it. Disemboweled and decapitated bodies piled up all over the battleground.

The storm was now more like a flood. Lightning seared the sky, and the flashes of blue light illuminated the dark clouds.

And suddenly, a new sound broke out. It was a single horn note, coming from somewhere behind the albionese army. Some soldiers in the rear turned, and saw something that would haunt them for the rest of their lives if they survived.

A single knight, clad in red armor and mounted on an armored horse, stood on the top of Curstag Hill. His helmet had three symetrical horns protruding from it, and the red warrior held a sword in his right hand, as well as a shield in his left. The knight raised his sword, and suddenly, dozens of other knights appeared at both his sides. The Crimson Knights had joined the battle.

The Crimson Knights were once members of the nobility. They were mostly fourth, or fifth sons, whose probability of even sniffing an inheritance were slim, to say the least. Their magical skills weren't too good, either. Cast away from their families by the rules of society, these men had nothing to lose. Many joined the cult, attracted by the promise of adventure, battle, and a place to belong to. Most weren't too concerned about the ritual of initiation, in which Siesta would drink a drop of their blood, thus absorbing all their magical power in return for invulnerability against any supernatural power. Currently, there were two hundred of these knights in the ranks of the cult. They all had taken their oath, undergone the initiation, forfeited their family name and heraldry, and painted their armor red as a symbol of their new allegiance.

The horns blew again. The leader of the Crimson Knights raised his sword as lightning lit up the sky again. Then, he pointed at the albionese army.

'BLOOD!' he roared.

'FOR THE BLOOD GOD!' the Knights responded.

'SKULLS!'

'FOR THE SKULL THRONE!'

'SOULS!'

'FOR THE SOUL EATER!'

'MAIM!'

'BURN!'

'CRUSH!'

'KILL!'

The Knights advanced. Not quickly, but at half trot, as the iron clad elite warriors maintained their formation. Horns blew yet again. Banners flew over their heads, abominable symbols etched on the fabric.

At 200 yards, they sped up. Two hundred pairs of lungs let out an infernal howl, that rose above the screams of the dying, the roar of the storm and the furious sounds of battle.

At 50 yards, lances came down, swords pointed at the albionese army, and the charge hit full gallop. The hooves of hundreds of armored horses thundered across the battlefield, charging like a tidal wave against the rear of the enemy forces.

Then, with an ear-splitting sound of ultimate violence, the Crimson Knights smashed into the republican army. The brutal impact outright killed scores of men. More followed, as the lances pierced armor and meat in a single strike. Men cried out, as they were mowed down by the dozens. The Crimson Knights didn't even slow down. Limbs and corpses flew everywhere, the tremendous force of the charge crushing the rear of the albionese forces.

The frenzied gallop kept tearing deeper and deeper into the now disorganized and terrified enemy lines. Blood spurts flew everywhere. Hooves stomped on ribcages and skulls, lances speared through necks and stomaches, swords and axes cleanly cut limbs off.

And then, 2,500 more warriors charged down Curstag hill, led by Allard and Beaumont. The entire albionese line buckled, as Siesta's and Lapointe's forces also pressed on with the attack.

Siesta smiled, and red light flashed behind her eyes. Khorne would be pleased.

-:-

**And that's it for today, folks! I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. **

**Remember, favs, follows and reviews will help Ghathrax's army gain more glory! Will you give it to them? **

**See you in 2-3 days! **


	14. Chapter 14: Revelations

**Chapter 14 is up! **

**Okay, I need to say this: I'm sorry that I'm posting such a small chapter after four days. Writer's Block is a bitch. I'll make a longer chapter next time, I promise. Still, I thought it would be better to post what little I've been able to write today, instead of holding it up until I had a respectable chapter in three or four more days.**

**On with the story! **

-:-

**Forest of Mésnil, 8 miles from Tarbes. **

The Tristanian army marched towards Tarbes, all the while under a massive storm. The rain clinked against the armor of the knights and the chainmail of the soldiers as it dripped through the foliage over their heads. The trail through the forest was muddy and bogged, and made the advance very difficult.

Louise was sitting inside a supply wagon, one of many in the long column. Jack sat across her, clad in half-plate armor. Louise saw Ghathrax walking behind the wagon, engaged in what seemed to be an incredibly interesting conversation with his axe.

'I've been meaning to ask you...' Jack began.

'Yes?' Louise said.

'Who was that man? Back at Albion. I thought he was your bodyguard?' he asked.

Louise stayed silent for a few seconds.

'He was my fiancé.' she answered.

'Your fiancé?' he asked, incredulously. 'Wow. I wasn't expecting that.'

Thunder roared, and a flash shone through the thick clouds.

'I never got to ask you your name.' Jack then said.

'I'm Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Valliére, daughter of the Duke of la Valliére.' Louise answered, raising her chin.

Jack chuckled.

'Your name is really long.' he said, with a smile.

Reluctantly, Louise smiled too.

'Don't be a smartass. I'm sure your name is just as long as mine.' she said.

'Well, Lady Valliére, you have the honor of talking to John O'Conor, last of my lineage, son of the late Count Frank O'Conor and Princess Guiomar de Aragona. A very long name indeed. But please, just call me Jack.' he said, lightly inclining his head.

'Pleased to meet you, Jack.' Louise said, lifting her right hand.

The boy almost used his own right hand, replaced by an iron hook, to take hers. He corrected his mistake, then using his left to lift her hand towards his lips.

'Pleased to meet you, Lady Valliére.' he said.

'Just Louise.' she said. Then, noticing the hook and the scars on the right side of his face, she couldn't stop herself from asking.

'How did you get those?' she inquired, pointing to his face and his missing hand.

Jack instinctively raised his left hand to touch the black scarred tissue.

'Oh, these are from a while ago. A cannonball hit my ship right where I was standing. Tore my hand off, and gave me these.' he said, gently touching the flesh. 'Not too pretty, are they?'

Louise shrugged, and put a lock of pink hair behind her ear.

'Well, since you told me about your scars, I'll tell you about my own shameful secret.' she said, her face reddening. 'Well, it's not really a secret. It's a bit embarrasing...'

'Go on.' he encouraged her, with a half smile.

'I can't... I can't use magic properly. I'm a noble, but I can't use magic. E-every spell I cast becomes an explosion, even the most simple. A-and that's why they call me... well... t-they call me... L-louise the Zero. Z-zero magic, zero abilities, zero e-everything.' she stuttered, her face red as a tomato.

'Wait, what? You can't use magic? But the man in Albion... he called you a Void Descendant.' Jack asked, frowning.

'But that's impossible! I can't be a Void user. You said it yourself, there hasn't been one for six thousand years!' Louise exclaimed. But then, it made sense, she thought. Traditionally, Void users were the greatest wizards and mages of all times, but they were also incredibly inept when it came to using the other elements.

'But then... how did he know?' Jack asked.

'I... I don't know. He knew me for a long time. It looks like he always knew more about me than I did myself.'

They both sat in silence for a minute.

'I remembered something.' Jack then said.

'Yes?' Louise asked.

'The man in Albion... he also called you Void Berserker, and he said you were the greatest killing machine of all times...'

'What about it?'

'Well, my father took me to the cathedral of Londinium once, when I was younger. While he was distracted, talking to the cardinal, I slipped away and came upon a large room underneath the cathedral. There were only two things inside it. The first was a mural. It depicted the Founder, fighting the elves. But he was strange. Usually, the Founder is painted with white light coming from him, dressed in a black tunic and with a wand in his hand. But in this version... he was so different. He was wearing armor, crimson armor. He wielded an enormous axe, and red light shone from him. I only knew he was Brimir because of the depiction of the Holy Gandalfr fighting beside him.'

'That's strange. What was the second thing?' Louise asked.

'The second was a big marble slab leaning against the wall, with words written on it. I can still remember them, as if I had read them yesterday' he said. Then, he began reciting.

"...and the Daughter of Death will rise on the day of the third eclypse. She will fight the final battle against the horde of the Unnamed One, and the Fiery Messenger will ascend to the stars. And it shall come upon the world the day when the Unnamed One will break free. And Darkness will shroud the land. The Void Berserker shall bring forth the salvation, or the undoing of the world. Blood. Skulls. Souls. All three will fall. All three will rise. Without one, there aren't three. Without three, there won't be one. And the War shall never end..."

A sudden commotion was heard at the head of the column.

'Make way! Make way!'

Louise turned her head and saw a rider shooting past the wagon. She attempted to exit, but the vehicle hit a rock and tilted, making her fall backwards. She let out a yelp, as she smashed right into Jack.

After a few seconds of cursing and maneuvering in the narrow space inside the wagon, both teens managed to disentangle from one another and jump out of the vehicle. Louise signalled for Ghathrax to follow her and they all ran in the direction the rider was going.

When they caught up with him, the man was kneeling in front of Princess Henrietta's horse. Prince Wales was behind her, scanning the woods. Rain poured heavily, and Louise soon regretted having left the wagon, as she wrapped herself in her cloak. The garment was getting very wet and heavy.

'Where?' was the Princess asking the messenger. She was wearing her ceremonial armor, which left part of her generous bust open. She didn't seem to feel the rain at all. Louise then noticed the raindrops didn't hit Henrietta, but was rather deflected by some sort of water shield, which wasn't all that strange. The Princess was a water mage after all.

'Near the banks of the Serein, Your Highness. Not too far from here. The scouts have spotted the enemy army retreating towards the coast, with the other army right on their heels. They will soon be trapped against the cliffs.' the man said.

'Have you seen any trace of the Albionese ship?' Henrietta then asked.

'There weren't any ships. Just the albionese soldiers, and the horde giving chase.'

Wales spoke.

'That ship still out there. They did the same to my father's army during the battle of Doveland. They feigned a retreat, then ambushed us with their ships and tore our army to pieces. They're heading right into a trap.' he said.

Henrietta pondered the situation for a minute. She turned to Marshal De Gramont, who was riding beside Wales.

'Marshal, prepare the cavalry. We will ride to their aid. We can't let those men die, not after what they have done to defend our country.' she commanded. Gramont saluted and rode away. Then, she turned to Wales. 'Prince Wales, I entrust you the command of the rest of my army. Catch up with us before the sun sets, and we'll regroup our forces. Then, we'll drive these invaders off of Tristain forever.'

The Prince placed a closed fist over his heart.

'As you command, Your Highness.' he said. They both looked at each other in the eye for a second more than it was necessary, before Henrietta turned again, this time to Louise.

'Come, my friend. Let us ride together.' she said, with a smile on her face.

'Yes, your Highness.' Louise answered, smiling too.

'I will come too.' Jack said. Henrietta nodded to his words.

Ghathrax silently stared at Louise. The girl looked at him and spoke.

'You will come with us too, Ghathrax.' she said. Ghathrax nodded.

'Yes, master.'

Henrietta tensed for a second, as she looked into the familiar's sinister eye-lenses. If Louise noticed, she didn't show.

Then, the Princess took her mace from the sheath at the side of her horse's saddle, and lifted it over her head. Thunder roared in the sky, and the rain fell stronger than before.

'Forward!' she shouted, and galloped away. Louise and Jack mounted on their own horses and followed her. Ghathrax ran beside Louise, apparently not making much of an effort. Then, horns blew and nine hundred knights complemented by two thousand dragoons and a hundred Royal Musketeers followed too. The cavalry force, covered by thirty Griffin Knights, rode together towards the battle. The very first one, in what would become longest and bloodiest war Tristain would ever see.

-:-

**Well, as I said, sorry for the small chapter. I hope I can overcome this Writer's Block thing soon. I will post again on Sunday, or Monday. I don't know. I still have a lot to write. Oh, and don't worry, this is just a temporary weakness. I'll keep on writing, even if it cost mah life! **

**See you soon, peeps! **


	15. Chapter 15: The Maelstrom of War

**Chapter 15 is here, guys! **

**Just as promised. This chapter and the next will wrap up the events that happen in Season 1 of Zero no Tsukaima. I will begin with the events of Season 2 on Monday next week, once I finish writing the script for the 2nd story arc. If you have any suggestions on the matter, now would be the perfect time to share them. **

**Anyways, on with the story!**

-:-

**Albionese Second Army, two hours after the battle of Tarbes.**

General Magnus scanned the horizon from the back of his horse. The rain had stopped, and some sunlight timidly poked through the thick storm clouds in the sky. The cliffs behind the army were low enough that the waves could be heard, crashing against the rocks. Magnus inspired, letting the salty smell of the sea fill his nostrils.

'Any word from Marshal Neville, General?' Cromwell asked, standing beside Magnus.

'Not a sign.' the man replied. 'They've been gone the entire night and most of the morning. They must have encountered the Tristainian army by now.'

'I hope this plan of yours proves successful, General. Those are good men who may be dying out there.' Cromwell said, wiping mud off of his coat.

'Their sacrifice won't be in vain, Mr. Dictator. If this works, we will destroy the entire Tristainian Royal Army in one strike.' Magnus said.

Ten thousand soldiers formed in battle lines in front of the two men, bayonets, swords, spears, pikes and other weapons shining as the sun slowly forced its way through the clouds. The enormous battleship _Lexington_ loomed over their heads, cannons loaded and ready.

'Remind me why we're invading another country just to capture a schoolgirl, Mr. Dictator. Is she really that important?' Magnus asked, turning his head towards Cromwell.

'Not just a schoolgirl, General. She's probably the most powerful mage in the history of Halkeginia, maybe only excluding the Founder himself.' Cromwell answered.

'And how would you know that? She didn't actually _do _anything at Newcastle...' Magnus said, utterly confused.

'My sources are very reliable, General. I will not say another word about this matter. Oh, and by the way, I'd like you to try and capture Prince Wales too, if he travels with the Tristainians.' Cromwell said.

'Understood, Mr. Dictator.' the General replied, saluting.

Suddenly, a man appeared over the hills only a mile away. He was running with all his might, directly towards the army. Then, another. And another. And many more after them. The landscape started to fill with blue-uniformed soldiers, who ran as if the devil himself was hard on their heels.

Magnus raised his arm, and shouted:

'All forces! Ready to engage!'

'Are those Marshal Neville's forces?' Cromwell asked.

'Yes, they are... But there's something wrong. They don't seem to be retreating in an orderly fashion. They are routing.' Magnus said, frowning.

'It's as if something is chasing them. Look at them. What could affect them so?' Cromwell then asked.

'I don't know.' Magnus answered. He turned his head towards a young cavalry lieutenant. 'Lieutenant! Take two of your men, and find Marshal Neville! Now!'

'Yes, sir!' the young man said, saluting. Then, he rode off, accompanied by two dragoons.

Magnus watched in perplexment as hundreds of men ran through the battle lines, trying to escape from whatever was after them. They screamed, and yelled:

'Run! Run for your lives!'

'They're coming! By the Grace of the Founder, they're coming!'

Magnus grabbed a bloodied musketeer who was running past his horse, and shook him.

'Hey! What is coming? What is coming? Answer me!' he exclaimed.

'They are monsters!' the terrified soldier screamed. 'Magic doesn't hurt them! They don't die! I shot one at point-blank range square in the chest and he didn't die! Founder, forgive us! They are coming!'

Magnus let the man go and straightened himself on his horse. And then, he saw them. Knights, clad in red armor, charging down the hills towards the fleeing soldiers. Behind them came thousands of howling warriors, smeared with war paint, yelling praises to dark deities and waving standards and banners covered in horrible runes. Recently severed heads hung from belts and wrists, congealed blood forming disgusting lumps around their open mouths.

But the most disturbing of all was the girl on horseback that led the horde. Her raven black hair flew in the wind. Her red dress swirled around her body, as a crimson aura emanated from her. Even at that distance, Magnus could see her smile. Despite her evident beauty, she was a horrifying sight.

The girl pointed at the Albionese army, as a roar rose from the ranks of the horde. Bellowing war cries to the top of their lungs, the warriors charged forward.

Magnus and Cromwell watched as the musketeer front lines discharged a massive volley, killing hundreds of enemies. The cannons aboard the _Lexington _fired. Enormous blasts blew chunks of earth and bodies apart.

Then, the mages in the army cast spells against the incoming horde. Ice darts, fireballs and gigantic boulders were launched, only to be repelled by the blood red aura emanating from the raven-haired girl.

The horde smashed into the Albionese battle line with the force of a hurricane. Blood flowed generously, as men died in droves, decapitated by axes, impaled by pikes or disemboweled by razor sharp swords. Spears broke, shields were reduced to splinters. Armor-clad knights wielded their weapons and engaged in mortal hand to hand combat, while their horses stomped on skulls and ribcages.

Chaos descended upon the battlefield. The lines shattered, as noble and commoner alike fought to stay alive. The foul stench of human filth, mud and blood filled the air.

'Where are the Tristainians?' Cromwell then asked. 'The Royal Army was supposed to be here, not this mindless rabble of brutes and barbarians!'

'We will worry about that later, Mr. Dictator! Cannons, open fire!' Magnus shouted.

The heavy 12-pounder artillery batteries stationed on the rear of the army added their firepower to the fearsome barrage the _Lexington_ was pouring on the enemy army. Dozens of men and horses were violently dismembered and torn to shreds.

The enemy warriors never even slowed down. They kept pushing, breaking the musketeer line, and penetrating into the pike formations behind it. Holes ripped open into the tight ranks of highly trained soldiers, and crazed berserkers wielding axes and swords took advantage of the weak spots, massacring the Albionese.

Marshal Neville was in the middle of the fray, fighting for his life against a Crimson Knight. The officer parried and dodged desperately, as the knight roared demented curses, trying to skewer him with his longsword. Neville saw an opening in the knight's stance and counterattacked. The Marshal's sword penetrated through the kinght's neck joint and exited through the back of the head.

A soldier tried to reach Neville. He was a lieutenant, a very young one. The young man shouted something inintelligible and then fell, cut in two by an axe.

The Marshal looked around at the mass of struggling bodies. His men were fighting back to back, holding their fanatical enemies at bay. He felt a tingle of guilt. His own routing forces had disorganized the General's battle line, allowing the horde to get close without suffering an excessive amount of casualties.

'Re-form the line! Re-form the line! Move your asses, you lazy slugs!' Neville bellowed, trying to make himself heard over the cacophony of screams, the clash of weapons and the barks of the sergeants.

'Push them back! I said, push them back! Come on, sons of Albion! Liberty or death! Push!'

-:-

**Tristainian Cavalry, less than 200 yards from the battlefield. **

The three thousand men from the Princess's cavalry raced towards the battlefield. Henrietta, Louise and Jack gallopped in front, closely followed by Ghathrax. The Space Marine ran, his long strides outpacing all but the fastest horses.

The cavalry formation stopped on a hill that overlooked the battlefield. The roar of combat could be heard clearly. Ghathrax spotted Siesta, who was in some kind of trance, closely guarded by the remaining Crimson Knights. Fifteen thousand enemy soldiers swarmed against the girl's dwindling forces, but the Khornates still fought ferociously, and were causing an enormous amount of casualties among the Albionese.

The Berserker didn't lose a moment. With a brutal war cry, he charged down the hill, slamming into a pike regiment and tearing them to shreds in a crazed frenzy, as he howled like a demon.

'Ghathrax, no!' Louise yelled, before spurring her horse and rushing after the World Eater.

'Louise!' Henrietta called, watching in horror as her friend dove into the fray, following the trail of blood and corpses left by her familiar. Jack followed her, shouting her name.

General De Gramont raised his sword.

'Prepare to charge!' he exclaimed. Three thousand swords hissed in response, as they left their sheathes.

The Princess raised her mace as well, and brought it down towards the Albionese army.

'Forward!' she yelled.

-:-

**Albionese right wing. **

Cromwell had taken command of a small cavalry force as soon as the Princess's reinforcements arrived. He had seen the enormous familiar go into battle, followed by his master, the pink-haired girl. His intentions had been to capture the girl himself, but that damned Tristainian Princess had thwarted his plans by charging too soon.

Now, his dragoons were trapped between their own pikemen and the Tristainian cavalry. Cromwell cursed.

He unsheathed his sword and stabbed a wounded knight right through a crack in his chestplate. His pistol fired, taking down an enemy dragoon. Another knight tried to attack him from behind, but was skewered by a pike. The weapon impaled the man and lifted him from the saddle in a spray of blood.

Cromwell kept his gaze on his prize. The small mage, accompanied by a horribly scarred and maimed boy, were tearing through everything in their path as they followed the red-armored familiar.

'After them! Take the girl alive!' he ordered his men. As he parried a blow from a Tristainian dragoon, he cursed again.

-:-

**Khornate center. **

Siesta was chanting in a strange tongue she couldn't quite understand. The words came to her mind, and she just repeated them. A hard blue light shone from her eyeballs.

Around the girl, the Crimson Knights were killing anybody who dared approach her. Their swords felled soldiers right and left, decapitating, maiming and slaughtering.

A smell of ozone suddenly filled the air. Siesta finished her chant, as she raised her hands towards the sky. Red lightning struck her open palms and traveled through her, convulsing her body. Then, with a massive jolt of energy, the lightning was directed towards the enemy forces.

The raw power of the Warp smashed into any Albionese soldier foolish or unfortunate enough to be in range of the attack, reducing them to burnt ashes. The lightning arc jumped from body to body, turning men and beasts alike into charred husks. Dozens of men were instantly killed, and more fell to the ground, screaming in agony as they burned alive, their skin melting off their bones.

Time seemed to sit still for a moment, as the violent crackle of the lethal psychic attack faded in the wind.

With a brutal roar, the Khornates counterattacked.

-:-

**Albionese rear. **

Magnus watched in horror as the raven-haired girl unleashed her hellish power. Then, he heard a cry coming up from all sides.

'He's dead! Marshal Neville is dead! That witch has burned him to ashes!'

'It's useless to fight, comrades! Run!'

The soldiers started fleeing, trying to escape, trying to get away from that woman who could conjure such devastating spells, without even needing a wand.

Magnus quickly reacted. He drew his sword and raised it up in the air for everyone to see. The cannons of the _Lexington _thundered again, killing dozens of Tristainians.

'Infantry and cavalry reserve! Follow my lead!' he shouted to the top of his lungs. Then, grabbing the banner from the standard bearer, who was standing next to him, he lifted it up in the air and charged towards the heart of the battle.

**Tristainian center. **

Ghathrax was half-way through the Albionese forces. His axes carved a bloody path, as swords and spears broke against his armor.

'Look! Look up in the sky!'

'The sun is dissappearing!'

'It's an eclypse, you illiterate idiots!'

Ghathrax looked up after disemboweling a screaming spearman, and saw something he hadn't seen in a long time.

The moons were blotting out the sun. Then, at the same time, the Space Marine heard horns blowing across the battlefield. Distracted by the sound, he didn't see the enemy knight that attacked him from the rear. The knight's sword stabbed him in the back of the knee joint, and for a moment, Ghathrax lost balance. A jet of blood erupted, before coagulating almost immediately. The Berserker let out a bellow of utmost rage and tore the man to bits with his chainaxes. Then, he regained balance and dove right into a group of pikemen. The long shafts of their weapons broke against Ghathrax's thick ceramite armor like twigs, as the World Eater cut and cleaved savagely, slaughtering the desperate soldiers, and kept making his way towards Siesta and the Crimson Knights.

A few meters behind, Louise dodged a strike from a mace-wielding enemy and then stepped back as Jack thrust his sword into the man's gut.

Both of their horses were now dead, so they were forced to proceed on foot. Soldiers and knights, and warriors killed each other with extreme prejudice all around them, slowing their progress. Louise lost sight of Ghathrax in a couple of occasions. All sounds were drowned out, except for the ever-present roar of the fray.

Suddenly, Louise and Jack found themselves surrounded by dragoons wearing the emblem of Albion. The two mages stood back to back. Louise reached for her wand, but then remembered she didn't have it anymore.

'Jack, give me a weapon!' she shouted over her shoulder.

'What!?' Jack shouted back, parrying a descending blow from one of the dragoons. Then, he slashed at the man's horse at both man and beast fell to the ground.

'A weapon! Give me something to defend myself, hurry!' Louise yelled, closely dodging a saber aimed for her head.

'Here!' Jack responded, putting a long knife in her hand before deflecting a bullet with a shielding spell.

Louise looked at the knife for a second. It was an Aragonian "toledana", designed to be used while wielding a sword in the other hand. It wasn't ideal for her, but it was better than nothing.

But Louise never had a chance to use her newly acquired weapon. She felt a blinding pain on the back of her head. As the world blurred around her, she saw a tall blond man hitting Jack in the head with a mace, too. Darkness fell around her mind like a shroud and everything was, finally, silent.

-:-

**Tristainian center/ Albionese right flank. **

Henrietta saw Louise fall. The girl had been treacherously attacked from behind by the leader of a small Albionese cavalry detachment. For a moment, Henrietta's heart stopped, truly believing her friend had been killed. But then, she saw the dragoons grab Louise's and Jack's bodies and mount them on their horses, before riding off.

'Gramont! Gramont!' Henrietta yelled over her shoulder.

'Yes, your Highness?' the General answered, riding towards her. An Albionese musketeer tried to attack the Princess, but he was swiftly dealt with by Henrietta's knights.

'Chase those dragoons down! Don't let them escape! They've captured Louise!' she ordered, pointing at the light cavalrymen who were galloping towards the _Lexington._

'As you command, your Highness! Knights, follow my lead!' the man shouted as he rode off. Eighty iron-clad knights joined the pursuit.

Henrietta watched them for a few seconds. And then, she spurred her horse, and waved her mace over her head.

'Come on, then, Albionese dogs!' she shouted. 'Which one wants to be the first to die!?'

-:-

**Sorry for the cliffhanger, peeps. I'm actually writing this late at night, and my concentration is severely impaired. **

**Thank you to those who still read this story. Your patience will be rewarded. **

**See you next time!**


	16. Chapter 16: The Lost and the Damned

**Chapter 16 is up, guys! **

**I'm kinda slowing up a bit lately. I apologize yet again for that. So I'm going to start a routine. I'll post a new chapter every Monday, and another one every Thursday from now on. Hopefully, this will help me organize. **

**Enough talking. On with the story! **

-:-

**Albionese rear. **

Cromwell and his dragoons finally reached the back of the Albionese forces. Only a small plain was now between them and the transport barges. Cromwell smiled to himself. His stunt had been successful, despite Princess Henrietta's charge against the right flank. But his prize wasn't secure yet.

A compact group of Tristainian knights had broken through the lines as well, and they were hot on his heels. Without breaking the gallop, Cromwell turned his head towards captain Bryant.

'Captain, those knights are getting too close! Two of your men and I will carry the prisoners to the ships! You take the rest, and stop them!' he shouted.

The captain drew his sword.

'Yes, Mr. Dictator! 8th Squadron, draw swords and form up on me!' the man replied. The dragoons turned around, and formed a double line, their sabers drawn. Many carried pistols or carbines slung at the sides of their saddles.

General Gramont had sighted Louise and Jack, lying unconscious on the horses of two dragoons. With a shout, he ushered his men forward. Half of the knights who had followed him had been able to make their way through the tight enemy battle line to emerge from the other side. Most of their cavalry lances were broken, and many of the noble cavalrymen were missing their wands too.

Gramont looked at the dragoons who were preparing to charge as well. They were too few to pose a real threat. Resisting the urge to laugh, Gramont pointed his sword at them, as one of the knights behind him blew a battle horn.

'Noble men of Tristain! Charge forward! For Tristain, and for the Princess!'

And they went.

-:-

**Tristainian center. **

Siesta laughed like a maniac as she saw Ghathrax tearing through the Albionese army towards her position. Around her, the ring of Crimson Knights still fought on, cutting and stabbing away, their long swords glinting in the fading light of the solar eclypse.

She spotted an enemy lieutenant who tried to maintain order within his troops. With an evil grin, she pointed her fingers at the man and shot a wave of lightning bolts towards him. Her eyes flashed red as the unfortunate officer fell, his flesh charred and smoky.

Meanwhile, Ghathrax had gathered a group of warriors and Knights around him. The men, fired up by the World Eater's presence, fought with renewed energy, screaming hoarse battle cries and pushing forward.

Ghathrax felt a sword hit his right arm. He lashed out, and his chainaxes gutted a dozen enemies in front of him. He kicked another man's face in, and stepped over the body. A spearman fell to his right, his head split by a mace. One of Ghathrax's warriors was killed by a bullet.

The Berserker slammed his armored knee into a sergeant's chest, sending him flying backwards and cracking every one of his ribs. Then, he lowered his head towards the enemy soldiers and let out a roar that no human throat would ever be able to match. The antinatural sound, brutally amplified by the loudspeakers in Ghathrax's helmet, rose to intolerable levels. Every man in a five meter radius, friend and foe, was immediately deafened. The soldiers fell to their knees, screaming, as their heads rang and their eardrums bled.

The Khornates advanced, falling upon their now defenceless enemies, massacring them with swords, and axes, and spears. Hundreds were killed. The exhausted, terrified and bloodied Albionese soldiers tried to hold the line one last time. The infantry and cavalry reserves, led by General Magnus, desperately strove to reinforce the weakest points in the front, but the Khornates were relentless. They pushed forward, rythmically chanting and anihilating their foes.

'MAIM BURN KILL! MAIM BURN KILL! MAIM BURN KILL!'

The Albionese army was about to break. Without stopping, without relenting, without mercy, axes and swords rose and fell. Blood ran in streams, men fell and corpses piled up. The soldiers slipped on mounds of their own dead, as they were cut down by the frenzied Khornates. They advanced, howling like demons, led by Ghathrax's imposing figure, sweeping the Republican soldiers, mutilating and killing.

And with a scream of utmost terror, the enemy army broke and ran.

-:-

**Albionese right flank. **

'Forward! Charge forward, my people! Make these bastards pay! For Tristain!' Henrietta shouted, as her cavalry pursued the retreating Albionese.

The men roared their approval. Some of Henrietta's chiefs of staff paled upon hearing her profanity, unbecoming of a princess.

Henrietta's horse reared, and the young heir to the throne lifted her mace to the sky. To anyone who saw her, she looked like a warrior queen of old, the same fearless look in her eyes, the same ferocious voice. Her hair waved on the wind.

'Forward, my fellow Tristainians! Brimir is with us!' she shouted once more, before charging ahead as well, her bodyguards and chiefs of staff struggling to keep up.

-:-

**Albionese rear. **

At full gallop, without hesitating, Captain Bryant's dragoons and Gramont's knights rushed towards each other. Swords drawn, lances up, wands and guns aimed.

One hundred meters.

An order was heard through the ranks of the dragoons. Every man took a pistol or a carbine from the holsters at the sides of their horses.

Only two lines of dragoons, Gramont thought. Only two lines of dragoons were between him and his target. To the right and to the left, thousands of men ran towards the Albionese transport barges. Some of the ships were almost empty, while others, overcrowded, had serious trouble when trying to maneuver in order to get away from the cliffs.

Fifty meters.

Horns blew. Gramont closed his helm with his hand, then gradually brought the sword down towards the charging light cavalrymen in front of him.

Twenty-five meters.

Captain Bryant shouted an order. Fifty pistols and carbines fired at unison, felling a dozen armored knights, their breastplates and helmets unable to protect them against the small lead bullets. In response, A hail of wind blades, ice darts and fireballs shot towards the dragoons, tearing scores of men to bits. Horses whinnied and continued their frantic charge.

Less than two seconds later, both lines smashed into each other like a hammer on an anvil. Horses in both sides shot past each other, as the cataclysmic impact rattled every bone in the bodies of their riders.

An ice dart impaled a dragoon. A saber cut the arm off a knight. A lance pierced an unprotected chest. Gramont cut a horse's head off, and the sword kept going, also disemboweling the horseman on its back. Bryant killed a knight with his pistol, and then found himself riding towards Gramont. Bryant's saber bounced off Gramont's breastplate. Gramont's sword cleanly decapitated Bryant.

The General and three more knights emerged from the back of the Albionese formation and continued riding towards the fleeing Dictator and his unconscious prisoners.

Foam flied off the horses' mouths, as they were pushed to their limits. But Bryant's distraction had slowed them down too much, and the steeds were exhausted. The Dictator and his men only wore their uniforms and clothes, but Gramont's knights had over fifty kilograms of armor and weapons on them.

Gramont watched helplessly as Cromwell and his two remaining dragoons galloped into the ship that awaited them. The barge, crammed full of terrified soldiers, closed its transport bay and took off.

Gramont stopped his horse, stepped off it and stomped on the ground in frustration as he yelled with all the might of his lungs. The three knights that accompanied him watched as their superior lost all dignity.

Then, regaining some semblance of dignity, the General got back on his horse and signalled his men to follow him. The Princess wasn't going to be pleased.

Meanwhile, in the sky, the eclypse's cycle slowly ended, and the sun came out once again.

The battle was finally over.

-:-

**Two hours later.**

When the rest of the Tristainian army arrived to the scene, they were met by a gruesome sight. Thousands of men and horses lay on the field, butchered. The grass, once green, was now red.

But the worst of it was the work of the Khornates.

The methods used by the cultists to defile their enemies' bodies were barbaric and cruel. The prisoners were rounded up and chained to each other, forming long rows of men. Those who were weak, or too wounded, were immediately executed.

The bodies of the dead were systematically mutilated and decapitated, and their heads placed in burning pyres, to be later dug out and set up as macabre pyramids of white bones. Later, many of the bodies were also crucified or impaled in wooden stakes.

Henrietta was standing on a hill which dominated the scene, with her chiefs of staff, including Prince Wales. She watched as the Khornate warriors carried out unspeakable acts with their enemies, dead or alive. She almost gave the order for the troops to make them stop, but General Gramont spoke from behind her.

'Your Highness, I don't think it would be wise to meddle with these savages. They seem like they would be capable of doing the same to our own men if given the chance. Besides, as little as we may like it, they did hold their own against the enemy. I still can't believe they routed eight thousand Albionese soldiers at the banks of the Serein...' he said.

'That is irrelevant, General! They are heretics, and heathens! They worship a foreign God, like those filthy elves do! They have fought bravely, but it is God's will that they don't walk among pious, God-fearing people! They must be destroyed, or at least banished!' Cardinal Mazarin interrupted, waving his fist.

'Please, stop.' Henrietta said, softly.

Both men looked at the Princess.

'I agree with Cardinal Mazarin.' she said.

'But, your Highness...!' Gramont started.

Henrietta lifted her hand.

'Don't try my patience now, General. It's not at its highest.' she said, her voice ice cold.

The man stopped talking, but he shot a glare at Mazarin.

'As I was saying, I agree with Cardinal Mazarin. These... men... are certainly useful, but they are also savage and cruel killers who don't seem to recognize any law but their own. They are most certainly heretics, as well. Can you imagine the Pope's reaction if he found out that Tristain uses a heathen fighting force, and that this force also refuses to convert to the faith of our Founder? We have many enemies, some of them in the college of cardinals. We can't risk them forcing the Pope to declare a Crusade against us. Also, Louise is gone. She was the only one capable of controlling that familiar of hers. But with her gone, what is stopping that _thing_ from deciding that we are the enemy now?' she said. Everyone around her detected a tinge of bitterness in her voice.

'Then, what should we do? We have all seen what these savages are capable of, and while they can be killed, this monster leading them can't. At least, if the rumours are true for once, and it's immune to magic as they say.' Gramont then said, finally.

Prince Wales listened to the conversation. He truly had mixed feelings about Louise's enormous familiar. He had saved his life back in Albion, and also Lady Valliére's and... Jack's. Thinking about his friend made him close his fists in anger. Not only had Cromwell killed his family and taken over his kingdom, but he had also abducted the only true friend he had left in his world. Then, as his mind recalled his past life in Albion, he suddenly came to a realization.

'We could send them to Albion.' he said out loud. Everyone turned to him.

'What?' Henrietta asked, confused.

'We could send the familiar and his warriors to Albion.' he repeated. He approached the Princess. 'Look, a familiar will always try to find its master when said master is missing, right? Well, we could just help the familiar achieve his objective. We can give Lady Valliére's familiar a few ships to transport his men and some supplies to Albion, and then there will be nothing to stop him from finding her. It's in his nature to seek out his master.'

A slow smile appeared on Mazarin's and Gramont's faces.

'Also, they could be perfect to wreak havoc within the Republican forces while we prepare the invasion!' Gramont said, excitedly.

Henrietta stayed silent for a moment.

'But I don't wish to invade Albion. Too many people have died until now. The Marquis of Tarbes, his men, hundreds of our cavalry, thousands of Albionese soldiers... I can't bear to be the cause for more death. I will never declare war.' she said, but she didn't sound convinced.

'With all due respect, your Highness...' Gramont said, pointing at the battlefield. 'We already are at war. This has been an invasion attempt by Albion.'

'Besides, the people will want to take revenge on the Albionese. If we don't retaliate, there may be a revolt, and the rebels would declare war anyways. The death toll would be catastrophic. But if you declare war yourself and lead it on the field, you can limit the deaths to a minimum.' Mazarin then intervened. 'Also, we have a righteous reason to go to war with the new Republic of Albion. The Republic itself is madness. Cromwell and his henchmen have committed the worst treason of all: they have rebelled not only against their rightful king, but also against the holy order pre-ordained by God himself. The rule of each Holy Kingdom of Halkeginia is reserved only to the noble dynasties that were awarded the title of Holy Royal Families by Brimir himself six thousand years ago. We can't allow this Republic to exist, because it's sole presence is an insult to God.

'I agree, for once.' Gramont said.

Henrietta looked at Wales, then at Gramont, and then at the cardinal. And she made a decision.

'Very well. We will go to war with Albion. May the Founder be with us.' she said, finally. 'Prepare ships to transport Louise's familiar and his forces to the island. Use unmarked trading vessels, to avoid rousing suspicion. Gramont?'

'Yes, your Highness.' the man answered.

'Send three of your men to the capital, with word for General Poitiers to start mobilizing the militia, and begin the drafts for the levy.'

The General saluted, and walked away.

Henrietta sighed and looked back at the battlefield. She saw Louise's enormous familiar in the middle of his men. And she felt a shiver, as she realized he was looking directly at her.

**Well, that's that for the First Part of the story! I'll post the next chapter on Monday, as I promised. **

**Remember to Fav and Follow if you like the story so far, and drop a review if you feel like it. Have a nice weekend! **


	17. Chapter 17: Red Moon

**Chapter 17, coming right up! **

**The following events take place three months after the Battle of Tarbes. **

-:-

**Albion, November 8th, 6032 AF. **

Jenny turned thirteen the same night her village was burned.

Jenny's village, Mitcham, was actually a small town near a bridge that crossed Clough River, in the territory that once was the Barony of Westshire.

Jenny was a surprisingly beautiful girl for her age. Her coppery red hair and grey eyes attracted the gaze of many of the boys in the village. Still, though many had courted her, she had never shown any interest in them, except for Frank, the butcher's son. They had known each other from childhood, and he was the only boy she ever really liked and, she thought, could grow to love.

The girl was also carefree and happy. Being the baker's daughter, she had never had any food problems, and even when times were rough and supplies were tight, her family had always managed.

She enjoyed going to the river with her friends Daisy and Hanna in the spring and summer afternoons. They would search the riverbank for colored stones, smoothed and rounded by the current. Then, they would swim in the clear water, and lay on the grass after, letting the sun dry them. But now it was winter, and the river was frozen solid. It was in this time that Jenny would also work with her father and elder brother in the family bakery, selling bread while the two men worked in the oven.

The morning of her birthday, while Jenny was helping at the bakery, she was approached by Frank.

'Hey, Jen.' he said. He was holding something in his hands, and he nervously shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

'Oh, hi, Frank! How's your day going?' the girl said, smiling brightly. Frank was tall, well built for the sixteen summers behind his back, and he was very handsome, with blond hair and dark eyes. Jenny's and Frank's fathers were also close friends. They had fought together during Cromwell's rebellion.

'Not bad, I guess.' the boy answered, his cheeks reddening slightly. 'Can you come out for a minute?'

'Sure. Wait a moment, I'll be there in a second.' Jenny answered. Frank nodded, and waited as the girl made her way under the counter. Then, she stood in front of him, cleaning her hands in her apron. 'Well?'

'I... umm... well, I just wanted to give you this.' he said, handing her a small brass necklace with a pearl in the center. 'You know... for your birthday.'

Jenny's eyes shone as her smile widened.

'Oh my God... Frank, it's beautiful! How did you manage to make it?' she exclaimed, taking the necklace and running her fingers over the pearl and the brandished brass chain.

'You like it?' Frank asked, smiling shyly. 'Bannister helped me with the metal in his forge, and I bought the pearl from that Gallian merchant from last spring...'

'Oh, Frank... I love it. Thank you so much!' Jenny said, giving him a hug.

Frank hesitated for a second, before slowly puttin his arms around her as well.

Then, a small cough interrupted them.

Frank looked up, and saw the baker leaning against the counter.

'Hello, Frank.' the man said. He wasn't as tall as the butcher's son, but he was certainly bulkier.

The boy immediately let go of Jenny and took a step back, blushing furiously.

'Hello, Mr. Harrigan, sir. I- We weren't... doing anything... I just wanted to give Jen- I mean...' he stammered.

'It's okay, boy. What is it you wanted to give to my daughter?' the other man said, with a smile.

'He made me this necklace, dad. Isn't it nice?' Jenny intervened, walking up to the counter and holding the piece of jewelry for her father to see.

'Hm. That _is_ nice.' the baker said. 'Well, I think you should get going, Frank. We have work to do. You'll see Jennifer at the party tonight. Oh, and tell your father I want to talk to him about that thing you and I discussed yesterday.'

'Y-yes sir. Goodbye, Jen.' Frank said, before leaving the bakery.

'Bye, Frank!' Jenny exclaimed.

Then, the girl turned to her father.

'What did you and Frank talk about yesterday?'

Mr. Harrigan leaned in and kissed her daughter on the forehead.

'Don't worry about that right now. Go upstairs and help your mother prepare your dress, okay?' he said, smiling as he stroked her hair.

'Yes, dad.' Jenny said.

Mr. Harrigan watched his daughter as she headed to the upper part of the building, where the family lived. Then, an old woman entered the bakery.

'Hello. I'd like two loaves of bread, please.' the woman said.

'Yes, Mrs. Clayton. Coming right out of the oven.' the baker answered cheerfully.

-:-

**Eight hours later.**

When Jenny came out of her house to attend to her coming of age ceremony, she was left breathless. The little village where she had grown up was now unrecognizable. Strings of garlands hanged across the town. People danced on the streets under the stars, and around a giant bonfire in the middle of the main square, to the vivacious sound of violins, flutes and other musical instruments.

The girl was dressed in a light blue dress which had belonged to her mother, and her red hair was braided behind her back, also leaving a lock falling over her dark green eyes.

Jenny's father appeared at her side, wearing his best Sunday clothes.

'Do you like it?' he asked. 'Jake helped pay for all of this, so don't worry about the cost.'

'It's... It's magical. Thanks, dad.' Jenny said, taking the baker's hand.

She wondered why would Frank's dad help with the cost of _her_ coming of age ceremony, but she quickly dismissed the thought as she was led by her father towards the square.

As soon as Jenny came into the light of the bonfire, everyone quieted and the people gathered around to witness the ceremony. Jenny almost wished everyone would stop looking at her, but then she spotted Frank standing next to his two little sisters, smiling at her, and she felt a little better.

The priest of the village, Father Harkness, approached her. The priest was an old man, shriveled by age. The Holy Man beckoned her to come closer. Jenny stepped forward, and then knelt before Father Harkness. A trembling hand made the sign of the Founder on her forehead with ash. Then, the priest spoke in a powerful voice that belied his years.

'Jennifer Harrigan, daughter of Liam, of the village of Mitcham. Do you hereby swear to live from now on in the light of the Founder, and to dedicate your life fully to become a respectable and honorable woman in the eyes of your brethren? To never use the charms of your gender to instill evil into a man? To always uphold the Word of the Founder, from now on, until death?'

'I do.' Jenny answered, bowing her head.

Harkness smiled.

'Then, by the Grace of God, and the holy power he has granted me, I testify before the Founder that you have become a woman of your town, with all the duties and rights granted. Rise, daughter of Liam.'

Jenny rose to her feet. Then, she was made to walk around the fire three times, and blow out a single black candle, which symbolized the Void.

When the ceremony was finished, the music, and the laughter, and the dancing resumed. People ate, and drank, and sang, and laughed.

Jenny danced with her brother, her friend Daisy, Daisy's cousin, and finally, Frank. The girl was smiling so much she thought her face would split. As they danced through the crowd of spinning bodies, holding on to each other tightly, the boy leaned closer and spoke into her ear.

'You look beautiful!'

'Thanks! You do too!'

They both laughed.

'What did you and my father speak of yesterday?' Jenny then inquired.

'Why do you ask?' Frank responded.

'Because my father won't tell me!' she exclaimed.

Frank stayed silent for a long minute, as they spun around, dragged by the crowd. The _tempo _of the song increased, and a drum joined in, with a quick, continuous beat. Then, the boy made a decision.

'Jen!'

'Yes?' she asked.

'Will you marry me?' he shouted into her ear.

Her bright smile was like a balm for the boy's heart.

'Yes! Yes, I will marry you!' she happily answered, and she laughed so hard that she threw her head back.

Frank then made Jenny spin round and round, as her delighted giggles rose over the lively melody.

-:-

Nobody could have expected what followed. Twenty-two minutes after the beginning of the ceremony, something moved through the tall grass of the plains. The only one to see it was Nathaniel Kerest, the town's guard captain. He was so drunk that he never felt the axe that cut through his neck, decapitating him.

Moments later, a group consisting of nine dark shadows crossed the bridge and entered the town. Morrison, the inkeeper, was heading towards his house at that moment. He saw the shadows, and turned to shout something. Instead of words, what emerged from his mouth was the black shaft of an arrow.

Morrison's wife was looking out the window at the time. She immediately ran to her children's bedroom, but she never even made it to the hall. A man dressed in rags and chainmail had just emerged from the room, carrying a sword drenched in blood. The last thing the innkeeper's wife ever saw was a bloodied arm coming out of the covers of her eldest son's bed.

Exactly fourteen seconds later, the guards at the garrison saw a second wave of shadows heading their way. The fifteen men of the town's guard exited the building, swords and muskets in hand. They were massacred before they could even load their weapons. Shops and houses were set on fire.

The alarm was finally given by Crazy Max, a beggar who survived off charity from the Church. He witnessed the anihilation of the town's guard and tried to get to the square. He managed to scream something before being cut down by a sword wielded by a knight in red armor.

In the square, the music was interrupted when the war drums began beating. Slowly, ominously, as if they were predicting the coming of death, and madness. The first who tried to escape from the incoming assailants were quickly swept away, and left to die in the streets. Horned warriors ran through the streets of the town, killing, mutilating and burning.

Panic ensued.

'Fire! The town is burning!'

'They're coming! Run for your lives!'

'Help! Help me!'

'No! Please, don't- aaaaaaaaaaaghh!'

Jenny and Frank tried desperately to hold on to each other's hands, as the fleeing crowd forced them towards the streets that led out of the square.

'What's happening?' Jenny shouted.

'I think we're under attack! Just run, Jen! Run!' Frank answered, dragging the girl behind him.

Suddenly, one of the attackers emerged from the carpenter's shop. Bellowing obscenities and curses, he gutted Thomas Stewart, the barber and surgeon, with an axe. The people screamed, terrified, and tried to get away. But then, another one burst from the burning heap that was all that was left of the church, and decapitated Father Harkness with a sword. The crowd fell back, screaming in horror.

Some of the townsfolk tried to fight back. Jenny saw her own brother cutting an enemy's throat with a knife, as her father smashed a hammer into another one's face. The girl then watched as they were both disemboweled by an enormous knight in red armor who was wielding a massive broadsword.

'No!' she screamed, as hot tears fell from her eyes. Frank pulled her arm, and seeing he wouldn't be able to move her, he took her in his arms and ran.

Everywhere, people tried to flee, fight or hide. But the brutal warriors never relented. They didn't even care for the ones who attempted to surrender.

But then, without warning, the warriors stopped killing. The crowd had reached a wide street almost outside the village. A thick smoke cloud covered everything, blocking view.

Jenny sobbed in Frank's arms. The boy gently cradled her, and spoke softly in her ear.

'Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you. I promise.'

Then, something moved within the smoke cloud. The people screamed, and tried to get back, but the assailants had formed a line behind them, preventing them from escaping what awaited them on the other side of the thick cloud. Then, a shape appeared.

It was a man. Except it wasn't. It was simply too enormous. The shape took a step forward, emerging from the smoke, and it was clear that it couldn't be human. It was at least seven feet tall, clad in thick red armor. It's helmet was shaped in the form of a howling, horned demon, with some kind of grill were the mouth should have been. Steam emerged from it. Frank then saw the monstruous-sized axes it carried. They were drenched in blood, and something that looked too much like pieces of flesh and skin hanged from them.

The demigod then looked at the crowd, and spoke in a strange metallic voice.

'My name is Ghathrax Crimsonfist. I am a warrior of the World Eaters, Khorne's Herald and Familiar of Zero. And I have come to kill you all.'

The warrior paused, and for a moment it seemed to savor the terror his words had caused. The people around Frank and Jenny shifted nervously, but didn't say anything.

'But there is a way you can avoid that.' the demigod continued. 'And that is if you cooperate here and now. I'll give you a choice. Serve the Red Legion. Or die.'

-:-

**Well, that's it for today, folks.**

**Author's note: I wanted to post on Thursday, but the story is getting more and more complicated, so I need to slow the update rythm a bit. I've posted 17 chapters in less than two months, guys. If I want to keep the quality of the story within acceptable levels, I need to take my time with every chapters. Don't worry, I'll keep posting, but it'll be on a weekly basis. I'll post a new chapter every Monday, and I'll use the entire week to prepare it and edit it properly. **

**I'll see you next week. If you have any questions or remarks, please PM me. **


	18. Chapter 18: Blood for the Blood God

**Chapter 18 is here! **

**Author: I think this story can reach 40-50 chapters easy, maybe even more if I add some extra content at the end of it. **

**Ghathrax: You miserable weakling! How dare you make me work this hard just for 40-50 chapters! **

**Author: Well, I think it's a good number...**

**Ghathrax: Shut up and write, slave! Write! *whiplash * **

-:-

**Westshire garrison at Linser Castle, two hours after the attack on Mitcham. **

Commander and Congressman Walter Mathews leaned back on his chair and let out a massive yawn. He rubbed his eyes, which were sore from looking at the papers on his desk for three hours straight with only the dim lighting of a few candles to help him.

'Sir? Your dinner is ready.' he heard behind him.

Mathews turned his head and saw a young soldier standing to attention at the door.

'Thank you, Corporal. Have it sent up here. I have a lot of work tonight.' he said.

The boy saluted and left the room.

Mathews let out another yawn, and returned his attention to the documents sprawled before him. They were all reports of different things, like grain counts for the winter, ETAs on supply caravans, daily check-ins from the patrols in the Westshire area, as well as the guard detachments in the towns and villages, etc.

Sighing heavily, the man picked up his quill and continued working on the reports. For a few minutes, only the scratching of the instrument on the paper was heard.

As he wrote, Mathews thought about the missing caravan from a few days ago. An entire supply train had just vanished in the forest, including its 300 civilian workers and the soldiers assigned to protect them.

Mathews shrugged. Surely, their complete idiot of a guide had lost his way in the thick wilderness. The forests were dark and cold that time of year, and the trails were frequently covered by fallen leaves, and even snow. Would it be so hard for the Congress to accept a budget to build permanent roads? Of course it would, especially considering the Congress was now too busy passing laws for new taxes, and worshipping that useless General Magnus of theirs.

So what if he had commanded the Republican Army to victory at Lexington, Doveland and Black Hill? So what if his troops had been the ones to capture Newcastle despite Tristainian intervention? So what if he had led a retaliation operation against the Tristainians, capturing two vital POWs?

General Magnus had always fought with the advantage of numbers on his side, as well as air support, except at Lexington, and even there he had to cheat to achieve victory. Ambushes were for pussies, Mathews thought. Also, Magnus had managed to lose over 3000 men at Newcastle, and 4,600 more during the attack on Tristain.

Mathews chuckled sarcastically. What made that moron of a General so special for the Congress, and for Dictator Cromwell? He was just another grunt. Even worse, he was an arrogant one. Of course, he would never say it out loud. Opposing the Dictator would probably cost Mathews his seat in the Congress, even now that Cromwell was about to turn in his emergency powers and call for new elections.

The congressman was newly interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing behind him. He turned his head, expecting to be met by a waiter with his dinner, but instead, he saw Captain Farragut and two spearmen standing right outside the office.

'Yes, Captain?' Mathews inquired.

'Sir, I think it will be best for you to come with us. We may have one hell of a problem.' Farragut answered.

'What? What do you mean, _one hell of a problem_?' Mathews irritatedly asked.

'Sir... Mitcham is burning. One of our patrols found a survivor wandering through the forest near the castle.' the other man replied. 'She isn't injured, but she claims everyone else has been killed or captured.'

'Mitcham? Everyone killed or captured? By whom? When?' Mathews asked, as he stood up.

'It happened something more than two hours ago.' Farragut answered. 'The survivor said something about horned warriors killing, burning, raping and looting. It looks to me like this was another of those raider attacks. Shall I prepare the troops, sir?'

Mathews nodded.

'Do that, Captain. And send a rider to Londinium. It looks like I'll be late for the next session in the Chamber of Commons.'

'Yes, sir. Right away.' the Captain replied, saluting.

-:-

'Can you tell us anything more?' a scout asked.

The survivor shook her head. She was a young girl, not far in her teens. She wore a torn and bloodied dress, and her hair fell all over her face.

'Look, it's vital for us to find your people before the raiders kill them. We need to know any information you may have.' another one said.

The girl didn't answer. She just stood there, sobbing ligthly from time to time.

The two scouts sighed.

'It's hopeless. She won't say anything else.' one of them told Commander Mathews, who was standing behind them, already clad in his suit of half-plate armor and chainmail.

The commander approached the girl. She shivered lightly.

'I'm not going to hurt you, girl.' the man assured her.

She still wouldn't talk. Mathews raised his hand to her chin and lifted her head until her eyes met his.

'What's your name?' he asked her. The girl didn't say anything. Then, as he was about to give up and walk away, she spoke.

'Siesta. My name is Siesta. Please, help us.'

-:-

**Westshire Forest, unknown location. **

Jenny woke up inside a dirty, miserable cage, in the middle of the darkness. Looking around, she saw other people also inside her cage, shivering, silently crying or just laying around, unconscious, asleep... or dead. Frank was nowhere to be seen.

Then, she heard a frightened whisper.

'What's going to happen to us?'

'I don't know.' another voice said. 'Shut up.'

'They're going to kill us all. One by one, until there are none of us left.' a third voice intervened.

'Shut up! They're not going to kill us, you idiot. If they wanted to, they would've already done it.' the second voice said, in an irritated tone.

A chuckle was heard. Jenny traced the sound back to its source, and saw a middle-aged man dressed in a blood-stained chainmail vest, sitting against one of the corners of the cage.

'I've been here four days, lad. I know what I'm talking about. They ambushed us. Me and my caravan. We were heading to the castle, when they jumped at us from twenty different locations in the forest. Killed half of my men, and captured the rest of us. Every night, they take some prisoners. Most don't return to their cages. The rest refuse to talk about what they saw. They will come for me eventually, just as they will come for you. Mark my words.' the man said, mockingly.

Jenny gasped. A shadow on the other side of the cage turned towards her in the darkness.

'Just shut your gob, old fool! You're scaring the girl!' the shadow barked.

'She should be scared. Every night, they come. And you hear the screams...' the soldier replied, bitterly.

Suddenly, as if agreeing with him, a loud scream was heard, before it was cut short by the roar of a multitude.

The people in the cage hurdled together, looking around in fear.

Jenny pressed her face against the bars of the cage, trying to penetrate the darkness with her gaze. She only saw trees, and more cages between them. And then, she saw something that sent a chill down her spine. Tall shadows walked among the cages, spears, swords and axes in their hands.

Suddenly, two more warriors led by one of those red-armoured knights, emerged from the darkness. They were carrying an unconscious and bloodied young man with them. They were laughing, and joking. Jenny watched the warriors as they approached her cage. Suddenly, just before they opened the door, she recognized the unconscious person's face. It was Frank.

The girl surged forward, but the butt of a spear forced her away from the bars. The warriors unceremoniously threw the boy inside the cage, and locked it again. Jenny knelt beside Frank, anxiously examining his body for injuries, but he seemed fine, apart from a large cut on his forehead. It bled abundantly, but it looked superficial.

'You're okay. You're okay.' the girl whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks as she caressed the boy's face and ran her fingers through his hair.

Jenny tore a piece of fabric from her blue dress, which was now stained with dirt and filth, and carefully bandaged Frank's head with it.

'If you really love that boy, you'd do well to let him die, girl.' the old soldier then said, behind her. 'Save him the tortures those savages have prepared for us.'

This time, no one said anything. Jenny hiccuped slightly, but she didn't reply either. Then, Frank's eyes slowly opened.

'What's... going on? Where am I?' the boy asked, weakly. 'I can't see...'

'Frank!' Jenny suddenly sobbed, throwing her arms around his neck.

Frank flinched a bit, but then, his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he realized it was Jenny hugging him.

'What did they do to you?' Jenny sighed, resting Frank's head on her lap.

Frank remembered, and his eyes watered.

'They made me kill Bannister. Holy Founder, I didn't want to! But the bastards had promised him that they would let him go if he killed me.' Frank said, closing his eyes again. 'Oh, Founder. They gave us axes, and threw us into an arena. We were told that they'd kill us both if we refused to fight...'

'It's alright. It's alright. You did what you had to.' Jenny said, softly.

'Dammit, it's not alright. Bannister was my friend. Brimir Almighty, I was forced to butcher him!'

Jenny didn't answer. She just leaned over and covered his mouth with hers. The kiss lasted for a few seconds. Then, she pulled back a few inches, and spoke directly to Frank's face.

'He tried to kill you. You defended yourself. That's all it was. I'm sorry for Bannister, but you're more important to me. Now shut up and rest.' she said.

Frank didn't make a sound. He just nodded, and closed his eyes.

But then, the horned warriors returned.

'Take her.' the red knight ordered the other two men, pointing at Jenny.

Immediately, Frank sat up and tried to shield her. The two warriors opened the cage and entered it.

'No! Take me, you bastards! Not her!' the boy shouted.

Jenny screamed and kicked, and thrashed, when one of the warriors grabbed her by the wrist and started pulling her out of the cage. The other warrior punched Frank in the gut, and advanced to kick him in the head as the boy fell on his side, but the old soldier suddenly jumped onto the man's back, scratching his eyes with dirty, broken nails. With a final yank, the one who had grabbed Jenny pulled the girl out of the cage and backhanded her, making her fall to the ground, before he pinned her by kneeling right on her back.

Then, the red knight unsheathed his sword, grabbed the old soldier by the back of his neck, and impaled him with the long blade. A geyser of blood erupted from the man's chest.

As soon as the knight retreated, the second warrior exited the cage and closed it with a loud _slam_.

The man who was pinning Jenny to the ground stood up, and forced the girl upwards too.

'Come on! Move!' he barked.

'No! No! Take me again! You bastards! Jen!' she heard behind her, as she limped forwards.

Shivering and disoriented, Jenny was pushed towards a large clearing in the forest, which was lit by numerous campfires. In the centre, there was a large circle, roughly seven meters in diameter, surrounded by stakes pointed toward the middle of the circle. The dirt inside it was stained with blood and human filth, and also fragments of weapons. An enormous crowd gathered around the improvised arena, cheering, jeering and bellowing demented incoherence.

But Jenny's gaze was diverted towards the crimson demigod standing in the middle of an honor guard consisting of eight more red-armoured knights. He was the very same demigod who had offered the people of Mitcham a chance to serve in exchange for their lives, before locking them up like animals.

Jenny was forced into the arena, where she stood like an idiot for a few seconds. A warrior put a knife in her hand, and she blinked in disbelief.

'You'll need this.' the man said, with an evil grin.

Then, her opponent emerged from the other side of the crowd. He was a tall, bald warrior. He was only dressed in a loincloth and heavy leather boots. The light of the fires emphasized his sizeable muscles. He was unarmed, but he seemed perfectly capable of snapping Jenny's neck like a twig.

Fear invaded her.

The warrior went for her. Jenny tried to defend herself with the knife, but the man simply laughed as he intercepted her clumsy attack, grabbing her by the wrist and making her drop the small weapon. Then, he backhanded her with his free hand.

Jenny fell backwards, bleeding profusely through her nose. Tears fell from her eyes, as the warrior knelt over her and tore off the top of her dress. The multitude cheered when his hand felt its way up and down her body, exploring the most intimate crevices of her flesh.

She screamed, and kicked, and thrashed. A fist smashed into her face, making her see flashes of blue light. Then, she saw the warrior laughing, as he lifted his loincloth...

Suddenly, Jenny's vision turned bright red. She didn't feel fear, or pain anymore. What she felt was unending, undying, downright brutal rage. Her hands searched for the fallen knife and grabbed the handle. Then, with a scream of absolute fury, she sank the small blade into the warrior's neck. A spray of blood erupted. The man let out a surprised gurgle, and fell to one side. Jenny wasn't finished yet. Holding the knife with both hands, the girl sat on the man's chest and stabbed him over and over again. She felt the friction of the blade against the ribs as she drove it into his flesh eight, nine, ten times.

The man thrashed, spouting blood through his mouth.

Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen.

The warrior still fought back, but his movements gradually weakened.

Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three.

Jenny's hands almost let go from the knife, as they slipped from the blood.

Twenty-seven. Twenty-nine. Thirty. Thirty one...

The warrior was now dead. Jenny realized she'd been screaming the whole time. When she quieted down, she also realized that the crowd was now completely silent. The girl stood up. Her dress was torn to ribbons, revealing more than it hid. Blood covered her arms up to her elbows, as well as her face, her neck and her hair.

Jenny looked around, her eyes wide and crazed. Her gaze stopped on the demigod. The enormous Space Marine and the thirteen-year-old girl looked at each other. The mob was tense, and expectant.

And then, slowly, the Berserker nodded.

A voice then yelled.

'BLOOD!'

'FOR THE BLOOD GOD!' the crowd yelled back.

'SKULLS!'

'FOR THE SKULL THRONE!'

'SOULS!'

'FOR THE SOUL EATER!'

Jenny raised the knife over her head, the disemboweled corpse of her opponent at her feet, as the multitude cheered, and howled, and bellowed.

-:-

**Well, that's it for this week. Hope you enjoyed, guys. As I said in the last chapter, I'll be posting on a weekly basis from now on, because I need time to write every chapter if I want to keep the quality of the story within acceptable levels while also getting sleep at night xD. **

**Anyways, see you next Monday! **


	19. Chapter 19: Void Fury

**Chapter 19 is here! **

**Sorry for not updating last week, guys. I'm afraid I won't be able to post very much during Christmas, because I have to help my father at his toy shop, and I have almost no time for writing. **

**But hang in there. Though the update rate will be significantly slower, I'm not yet done, and I'll keep writing and updating every now and then. **

-:-

**Albion, Londinium. House of General Magnus. **

Magnus stood on the balcony of his bedroom. He was wearing his uniform, blue and red, with white pants and black boots. The general shivered when a gust of cold wind blew over him. The night was cloudy, and the moons were nowhere to be seen. Only the lights of the city shone in the darkness.

Magnus took a deep breath, and looked at the letter he had in his hand. It was a citation from Congress, for the next morning. He was to present himself in the Chamber of Commons, to receive full command of the Albionese Revolutionary Army.

Magnus knew something was about to happen. The Tristainians would not let an invasion of their mainland go unpunished. Germania also had some old scores to settle with Albion. And of course, Aragona. For some stupid reason, Princess Guiomar of Aragona had died during the sacking of Londinium, and the Aragonians were not a forgiving people. An attack was coming, and it wasn't a matter of _if_, it was a matter of _when_. In fact, the Coalition could be invading right now, for all he knew.

The man let out a sigh. Cromwell was driving the country to the ground, just months after it had been finally freed from the tyranny of the nobles. And of course, it would be the work of the grunts to save it yet again. Besides, Cromwell was nowhere to be found. He had retired to his hidden fortress with his two new prisoners after the Battle of Tarbes, and that had been the end of it. For now.

Magnus heard a rustle, and suddenly two soft arms wrapped around his chest from behind. The general turned his head, and was met by a pair of dark brown eyes, which belonged to a beautiful young woman.

'Bianca.' Magnus said, as a smile appeared on his lips.

'Come back to bed, Julius. It's late.' his wife said, in a sleepy tone. She was wearing a nightgown, and was barefoot. It was obvious she had just gotten up.

'In a minute, honey. I'm just thinking.' he said.

'Alright. But don't take too long. You'll have enough time to worry in the morning.' she said, smiling and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Then, she backed away and returned to the bedroom.

Magnus shook his head. He needed to relax. A nervous general was useless to his country. Yet he couldn't ease his heart. He couldn't stop thinking. What if he wasn't good enough? What if the enemy wiped his army off the face of Halkeginia, and Albion fell under the tyranny of the nobles again? What if...?

He fought back those thoughts. It was useless to worry now. What would come, would come, and there was nothing he could do but adapt his strategy, as he had always done. Magnus looked towards the horizon one last time, and an impulse made him whisper a quick prayer.

'Please, Founder, God of the oppressed and the vulnerable, help me... help me save my countrymen. If you have to take my life, then so be it...'

-:-

**Westshire Forest. **

Commander Mathews and Captain Farragut rode side by side, not losing sight of the raven-haired girl who walked in front of them, showing them the way through the forest. Behind them marched the eight hundred soldiers of the Westshire garrison. Some carried torches, but the light could only illuminate the path up to a few metres.

Farragut looked around. The branches of the dark trees cast menacing shadows, which loomed over the heads of the soldiers, on both sides of the trail that led to Mitcham.

Crossing the forest at night was, in Farragut's opinion, foolish; they should have waited until morning. Yet the Commander had been adamant on the matter. It was absolutely necessary to be as swift as possible, to catch the raiders before they could kill their captives, if they had taken any, or to prevent them from attacking other villages, if they hadn't.

'Commander, I'd like to scout the forest in front of the column. We're relatively close to Mitcham now, and we don't know where the raiders are located. We should at least make sure there isn't an ambush waiting for us.' Farragut suggested, after a few hours of uninterrupted march.

'Very well. Move ahead with a company of your best pathfinders, captain. Take the girl with you. I'll stay with the main column, and move out again on your signal.' Mathews said, nodding, and raising a fist as a signal to stop. He was impatient, but not stupid.

Farragut saluted.

A few metres from the column, hiding in the bushes, a figure in red armor waited.

Allard gripped his sword tightly, and looked around towards his men. Their hushed whispers had died, and now they lay in silence, their weapons sharp and ready. The Albionese column had stopped, and they seemed to be sending scouts ahead.

It didn't matter. If they found them, they wouldn't live enough to alert their comrades.

Allard spotted Siesta, who walked in front of an enemy officer. She seemed calm, bored even. The pathfinders were fanning out, completely oblivious to the fact that the ambush was already there, under their own noses.

Allard was tasked with attacking the front of the column, to keep the Albionese light cavalry from aiding the center, which was the target of Marcel's and Beaumont's forces. They would break the line in two. And finally, Lapointe's men would cut off their retreat by surrounding the Republicans from behind.

It was a good plan, devised by Siesta herself. Allard could only marvel at the young girl's swift personality change. In less than five months, since the cult had been founded, she had gone from being a useless, immature little girl, to becoming a fearsome warrior and a cunning leader. Allard was now proud to serve under her.

A scout was approached Allard's warriors. It was hard to discern in the dark if he had seen them or not. Allard held his breath as the soldier cocked his long musket and peered through the dense wilderness. He was almost on top of them. Five steps. Four steps. Three. Two.

With a loud warcry, Allard swung his sword and launched himself forward. The long blade whistled through the air, and cleanly decapitated the scout.

'Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!' Allard bellowed, running towards Siesta and the Albionese officer, his sword raised over his head.

Immediately, a hail of arrows and javelins rained over the dragoons, killing scores of soldiers, and injuring many more. Men screamed, horses fell. Then, with a loud roar, hundreds of warriors emerged from the treeline, smashing into the survivors. The scouts and the dragoons fired their muskets and carbines, felling some of the charging Red Legionnaires. Then, they counterattacked with their bayonets and sabres, engaging in a violent hand-to-hand combat.

A single horn blew a flat note into the cold air, signalling that Marcel and Beaumont had initiated their assault as well. In the center of the column, two hundred men had formed a square, pointing their spears and bayonets outwards. The tide of bloodthirsty warriors broke against the gleaming steel block, struggling and dying. Many of the spearmen lost their weapons, which broke, or were torn from their hands after embedding themselves into the armor and flesh of the enemy raiders. The square held for a few seconds, before losing coherence in the face of the numerically superior Khornates. A frantic melee broke out, spears, bayonets and short swords meeting longswords, axes and maces.

Allard waved his sword and gutted another scout, before coming face to face with a dragoon. The horseman aimed a pistol at him, but he jumped to the left, avoiding the shot, as his sword cut off one of the horse's legs. The animal fell to the ground, whinnying. The dragoon tried to get up, but his leg was trapped under the horse's weight. Allard ran towards him and thrusted his blade into the man's chest, killing him immediately.

More warriors poured from the forest, this time at the rear of the column. Arrows flew everywhere. Men and beasts bled and died in the red-stained soil, spending their last breaths in screaming for a mercy that never came.

Farragut drew his sabre, and joined the fray. He could see Commander Mathews at the head of the surviving dragoons, shouting orders and curses. The Captain spurred his horse in Mathews's direction, but a brutal explosion knocked him off his horse. He landed on his back, and the impact rattled through his body. With a groan, he tried to get up. The air smelled of ozone, gunpowder and vaporized blood.

Farragut had barely a second to prepare, before a howling Red Legionnaire lunged for him. The warrior's axe fell upon Farragut's head, but he deflected the blow with his own weapon. Then, he counterattacked, disemboweling his adversary. Looking around, Farragut saw the last of his scouts being dispatched by the horde of enemies that swarmed the defensive formation. A few metres away, Mathews and five dragoons still fought on, but they too would be overrun soon.

Allard spotted the enemy officer again, trying to make his way towards the Albionese commander and his men. With a loud battlecry, he ran towards him, his sword raised. The other man saw him coming, and adopted a defensive stance. Swords clashed, and sparks flew.

Farragut blocked Allard's savage attack, and took a step back. Allard launched a series of blows, trying to find a weak point in Farragut's stance. The captain parried and dodged the strikes, before counterattacking. His sword was a grey blur, and he was able to land some glancing hits against Allard's armor. The Crimson Knight took a step back, interposing his sword between him and the Albionese officer. Around them, the battle still raged on, but it was clear that the Khornates had the upper hand. Most of the republican troops were dead or dying, and the survivors were gradually being surrounded and cut off by the Red Legionnaires.

At the rear, Lapointe's forces massacred the last few enemies left, and moved towards the center to aid Marcel's and Beaumont's warriors.

Allard and Farragut exchanged blows again. Their swords gleamed in the night. Farragut suddenly saw an opening in the other man's stance. Allard, in his reckless attack against the captain, had lowered his guard, leaving his head exposed. Farragut didn't lose a second. The sabre struck at lightning speed... and missed. Allard had lowered his body, avoiding the slash, and quickly took advantage. Whirling around, the Crimson Knight cut off Farragut's arm, and then turned around. Allard's long sword followed the movement fluently, and cut through armor, clothes and flesh, decapitating the officer.

Allard grabbed Farragut's head by the hair, and raised it toward the skies and howled, as let the blood that gushed from the severed neck drip all over his helmet and breastplate. The howl was answered by the triumphant roar of the horde. Then, Allard looked at Siesta, who nodded approvingly.

Mathews saw the whole scene as he tried to maneuver his horse to get to where the last of his soldiers fought back to back. He avoided losing a hand to an axe, but as the horse recoiled, a spear embedded itself in its flank. The horse reared, kicking and neighing, and Mathews fell to the ground. He immediately got up and parried a blow from a sword. Eight enemies surrounded him, armed with all manner of weapons.

He avoided another axe, and dodged a mace directed towards his head, but a spear opened a gash on his calf. Mathews fell on one knee, with a scream. Parrying a slash from a sword, he lunged forward, gripping his own weapon with both hands. The enemy warrior stepped back, then feigned an attack on the right. The commander took the bait. Steel clashed against steel, and another spear went through Mathews's shoulder.

Gasping in pain, Mathews let go of his sword, and fell on his knees. The battlefield had quieted down, which meant that the remaining republicans had been killed or had surrendered. The commander grimaced, as he felt blood trickle all the way from his shoulder to the ground. Mathews expected to be executed immediately, but the _coup de grace_ never came. Instead, Mathews saw the young "survivor", Siesta, approaching him. She didn't seem scared, or vulnerable anymore. Red light shone in her eyes, as she walked among the filthy, blood-stained warriors all around her.

The girl stopped in front of him and scrutinized his face.

'It's him. Take him to Lord Ghathrax.' she said, after a few seconds.

'And the other prisoners?' asked the knight who had killed Captain Farragut, standing at her side.

'Kill the wounded. Do whatever you want with the rest.' she answered.

'Yes, my Prophet.' the knight said. Then, he turned to his men. 'You heard her.'

Something smashed against Mathews's head, and the world dissappeared in a flash of blue and white.

-:-

**Undisclosed location in Northern Albion. **

The dreamer was in front of a mirror, in a dark room. There was nothing more. Just darkness, and that one simple piece of furniture.

Something was stirring inside the mirror. It was a consciousness, too enormous, too complex to fit into a human mind. Its name was formed by one terrible syllable, that promised blood, glory and violence to anyone who would answer its call.

The thing inside the mirror spoke.

'_I know what you seek._'

'I seek nothing.' the dreamer said.

'_All men seek something._' the thing replied.

The dreamer was silent for a few seconds, before speaking again.

'Where am I?'

'_You are everywhere, yet you are nowhere. This is my realm. Or at least, part of it. It's quite boring, is it not?_'

'It's... strange. The dark here is not entirely black. There are a thousand shades of colors I can't even describe. What is this place?' the dreamer asked.

'_This is where the beings such as I exist. From here, we rule the destinies of your kind._'

'You are... a god?' the dreamer inquired.

'_You could call me that.' the being in the mirror conceded. 'But I am so much more than anything your mortal mind can comprehend._'

'Who are you then? What are you?'

'_I am Death. I am war. I am carnage, and slaughter. My name is the one your familiar and his followers shout. It is me they worship, every time they go into battle._'

Suddenly, a glimpse of a memory echoed inside the dreamer's mind. She fell on her knees, as she remembered everything that had happened in the last three months. She remembered her name, as well the nature of the being that watched her from inside the mirror.

Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Valliére stood up, and looked at the face of the god.

'Khorne. You are Khorne, the god to which my familiar's soul is enslaved. I figured you'd be... I don't know, different.' she said.

'_I am different. But I wish to preserve your sanity for the time being, so I will not appear in my true form._' the god answered.

Louise looked around her once again.

'Where am I? My real body, I mean.' she asked.

'_Right now, your body is being tortured inside the dungeons of those puny mortals who captured you._' Khorne said. '_Their leader wants to break you. He wants you to convert to their cause, to use you as the weapon you are._'

Louise felt a shiver, as she remembered the pain, the humiliation. She started hyperventilating.

'_Stay calm. They cannot reach you here. I brought your mind to this plain to prevent it from being destroyed._' the god said.

'Why? What do you want from me?' Louise said, on the verge of tears. Fear gripped her soul.

'_You'll find out soon enough. For the moment, know that you will be useful to me, in time._' the god answered.

'But I'm useless! I can't even cast the easiest of spells! How could I ever be useful to you?' Louise asked, desperately.

'_That's because you're not meant to use that kind of magic. You know, deep down. You are a Void mage. And you will serve me, Void Berserker. You will fight and kill in my name._' Khorne answered.

'No! It's my familiar you want! You hear me!? I'm not a murderer! My familiar is your true servant!' Louise exclaimed.

'_Ghathrax is not the one who will fulfil the mission I will bestow upon you. He is strong, and one of my favourite sons, but he lacks vision. He lacks power. Why do you think you were the only one capable to beat him down? The power you wield is beyond human comprehension. You are his master now, Void Berserker. And I am yours._' Khorne said.

'But why? Why me?' Louise inquired.

'_Because you are the only one with the sheer power required to fight this battle in my name once again._' the god answered.

'What do you mean, "again"?' Louise asked.

'_This is not the first time this has happened. There was another Void Berserker. Six thousand years ago, he fought and killed in my name. He wielded the power of the Void combined with the rage of those who follow me._' Khorne replied.

'Brimir.' Louise whispered. 'The Founder himself was your herald all those years ago, wasn't he?'

'_Exactly. He was the first of your kind. He shed the most blood in my name. And in exchange, I offered him a place at my side. From there, he reigns over your little world. He is to be an example to you, Void Berserker. Prove to me that you are worthy, and I will grant you rewards far from any mortal's wildest fantasies._' the being offered.

'And if I refuse?' Louise asked.

'_Then, I'll take your power as a Void Berserker. A few days from now, you will give in to pain, and you will become one of the very same who now torture you._' Khorne answered.

Louise was momentarily lost in her thoughts. On one hand, she was reluctant to pay her allegiance to this ruthless being who relished death and carnage. But on the other hand, it had offered her an escape from the agony that had been inflicted upon her during the last three months. And not only that, but it would grant her anything she could ever desire. She could even have the entire world at her feet. Louise could almost savor it.

'_To make the choice easier, let me show you something. This is a glimpse of what your future can become._' the god said.

And suddenly, Louise saw herself standing on a balcony. She was breathtakingly beautiful. To her side, clad in red armor, stood her familiar. Below the balcony, an army so numerous that it couldn't be counted was awaiting her orders. The soldiers chanted her name, rythmically, fervorously. She could feel their devotion, their ferocious loyalty.

Louise then could see herself raising a fist, and the army roared in approval. They marched forward, anihilating every enemy that would threaten her. She witnessed every king, every great lord in all of Halkeginia, kneeling before her might, begging for forgiveness, humiliating themselves in front of the one they had once called the Zero, the screw-up daughter of the Valliére family.

The vision ended, and Louise was back at the dark room with the mirror. Biting on her lip, she raised her head, and stared into the god's eyes.

'I accept. I will fight for you.' she said.

'_Good. Very good. Now, I'm going to unlock your true power, so that you will make your way out of that pathetic place they've locked you up in. Once you are out, you will make your way to Londinium. Inside its cathedral, there is a secret passage to the catacombs. You will find a hidden chamber. The other mortal who was imprisoned with you knows the way. As soon as you reach the chamber, I will give you your instructions for the mission you will accomplish for me._' Khorne said.

Louise nodded.

'I'm ready.'

'_Well then, Void Berserker. Prepare yourself._'

Louise suddenly had the sensation of something scratching at the back of her mind. Then she felt as if she was falling through a very narrow hole in reality itself, and with a violent jolt of pure energy, Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Valliére woke up.

-:-

The first thing Louise felt as her eyes shot open, was pain. Horrible, unbearable pain. And then, she felt anger. Rage, purer than any feeling she had ever experienced, burned hot through her veins. Tears of blood streamed down her cheeks, as red filled her vision.

Louise's body was shackled to a table in a small, dimly lit dungeon. Her bare skin was covered in dried blood, bruises, and burns, which stung horribly. Her back was raw, from being whipped day after day. Two men stood in next to her. One was heating some metal instruments in a brazier, and the other was sharpening a knife.

The first turned. He saw the shackles that held the girl in place break and fly all over the room. Louise rose, and looked at the man. He simply vaporised, without a sound. Bone, skin and flesh was instantly turned into a thick reddish aerosol, which covered the floor and the walls. The other torturer took a step back, dropping the knife he had been sharpening. Louise turned her head towards him, and the man's bodily fluids spontaneously combusted. He shuddered, as a terrible smell of charred flesh filled the room. A gurgle escaped his throat, and he collapsed to the floor.

Louise got off of the table, without even bothering in covering her naked body. The cuts, burns and whip marks were already dissappearing. She walked up to the door. It only took her a moment of concentration to rip it off its hinges, and then she stepped outside the room. She was met by a group of confused soldiers in the middle of a corridor lit by rows of torches.

'What are you waiting for!? A prisoner is escaping! Shoot her!' their sergeant shouted, drawing his sword.

The soldiers immediately aimed their muskets at Louise and fired, but the small lead bullets just stopped in mid-air, before falling to the floor. Louise calmly walked between the soldiers, as their limbs were torn off their torsos, their heads imploded, and their chests burst in sprays of blood and gore.

The small Void mage came upon a flight of stairs which led upwards. She climbed them slowly, quietly, until she reached a long hallway, lit by more torches.

Attracted by the gunshots from earlier, several guards had rushed into the hallway. They stopped dead on their tracks as soon as they caught sight of the girl walking towards them, drenched in blood, her face expressionless as a marble statue. Some of soldiers aimed their muskets at her, while others formed a wall with their spears, blocking the way.

'Stop right there!' shouted the mage who was leading them. 'Halt, or we will open fire!'

If Louise heard him, she didn't show. When she was half a dozen steps from the soldiers, the mage raised his wand.

'She's not stopping! Light her up!'

Small detonations covered Louise's body entirely, and several more blew holes into the floor and the walls next to her. The mage unleashed a fireball, which engulfed the girl in a sea of flames. The tremendous volley echoed through the hallway, as the fire ignited everything around Louise. For a moment, the soldiers thought it was over. Nothing could have survived that. Not even a Void mage.

But then, the flames died as suddenly as they had appeared. Louise was completely covered in soot, but otherwise she was unscathed. Her red eyes looked at the fire mage, then at his men, then at the mage again.

A loud crack was heard, and screams filled the air.

-:-

**Well, that's it for now. I hope this chapter was a little more complete and satifying than some of the last ones. **

**By the way, I'm not making the story up as I go. I know exactly where the story is heading, and I assure you that everything I have written will have a purpose later in the story. **

**See you soon! **


	20. Chapter 20: Coalition

**Chapter 20 is here, at last! I am sorry I took so long to update. I have no excuses, other than I simply lost the inspiration to write for a while.**

**Ghathrax: It makes no excuses for being a lazy bastard... **

**Author: Not this again... I already said I was sorry!**

**Ghathrax: It updates regularly, or else it gets the hose again...**

**Author: *sob* **

-:-

**Undisclosed location in Northern Albion.**

Cromwell woke up when he heard the alarm bell. He rose from his bed, just in time to see his door opening. A female figure entered, carrying a candle. She was dressed in black and purple leather, and her face was sickly pale. Myoznitnirn.

'Lord Cromwell.' she purred.

Cromwell frowned in irritation.

'I'm not a Lord, servant. I'm the Dictator of Albion.' he retorted.

The woman smirked, and curtseyed.

'My apologies...'

'What do you want? And what in Hell is that racket?' the man demanded.

'I'm afraid the prisoner is attempting to escape, Mr. Dictator...' the woman said, her voice seductively low.

'What?' Cromwell shouted, jumping from the bed and walking up to Myoznitnirn. 'How can this be? You were in charge of her security!'

'She's using magic, Mr. Dictator... I found the soldiers I positioned in front of the torture chamber dead on their posts, in diverse states of dismemberment.' she answered. 'Maybe we underestimated her?'

Cromwell rubbed his temples. This was a disaster! A Void mage, loose inside his own castle. If she escaped, and the Chamber of Commons discovered what he'd been doing with her... it would be catastrophic for his plans. Those idealists couldn't know. They'd never understand what he'd done for Albion, for all of Halkeginia.

'Where is she now?' he asked, looking at the woman again.

'Somewhere between the second and third dungeon levels. She's killed around fifty men already, and she's making her way up, fast.' she answered.

'The boy. She wants the noble we captured with her.' Cromwell realized. He walked towards his drawer and extracted some clean clothes from it. As he got dressed, he spoke again. 'Take all the men you can gather, and send them down there. She cannot be allowed to escape this place alive. Then, contact your master. Tell him I need the Ring of Andvari.'

Myoznitnirn's head tilted to the left.

'And the boy?'

Cromwell looked at her as he buckled up his tunic.

'If she wants him, he has something she wants. Kill him immediately.'

-:-

**Red Legion Camp at Westshire Forest.**

Jenny shivered. Snow had started to fall, and a chilling wind blew amongst the cages and tents in the camp. Her torn dress hardly covered her trembling skin, despite her best efforts to try and fix the bloodstained fabric. The girl rested her head against the cold bars of the cage.

It had been a day and half a night since she had been forced to kill a man in the Legion's makeshift arena, and she hadn't been allowed to change clothes or even eat. The other prisoners in the cage looked at her differently now. It was as if the act of taking a life had stained her beyond the blood that now marred her clothes and flesh.

The dead body of the old soldier was still inside the Red Legionnaires hadn't even bothered to drag it outside. The flesh was starting to rot, and countless worms had made their home around the sword wound on the back of the cadaver. Jenny's eyes became fixed on a particularly fat specimen, which had managed to make its way to the dead man's right eyelid. The worm twisted and turned hypnotically, feeding and defecating at the same time.

Suddenly, a face filled her line of sight. Frank.

'Jen?' he said, a worried look on his face. His cheek had swollen from the kick he had received from a Red Legionnaire as he tried to defend Jenny, and had an ugly purple tone. At least, the gash on his forehead was starting to heal, and hadn't infected, which was surprising given the conditions the prisoners were in.

Jenny's eyes rose to meet the boy's.

'Yes?'

The boy sat next to her, and touched her face.

'You're freezing cold. Those bastards didn't even give you a blanket...' he said, gritting his teeth. He put an arm around the young girl, trying to warm her with his own body. She rested her head against his shoulder, and her gaze drifted back towards the dead soldier.

The teenagers sat like that for a few minutes, until the girl spoke in a neutral tone.

'We're dead, aren't we?'

'W-what?' the boy asked, in confusion.

'We're dead. They haven't killed us yet, but we're dead anyways. We will never be who we were again, even if we ever get out of here somehow.' Jenny said. She looked up at Frank, and he saw tears forming in her eyes.

'No. We'll make it, you'll see. I will protect you.' he said, hugging her tightly.

He didn't say what they were both thinking, though. That when the time had come, he'd been too weak to keep his word. Frank breathed in deeply. His feelings of guilt were taking their toll. He was unable to protect Jenny against the Legionnaires, despite all his promises, and that made him feel so little and pathetic...

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by a loud commotion outside the cage. The guards between the cages walked towards the origin of the noise to find out what was happening, dropping anything they were doing.

Voices were shouting and chanting in triumph, and horns blew high, clear notes. A large number of Red Legionnaires were making their way through the encampment, waving weapons so caked in dried blood, that their blades were barely visible. A few men wearing torn, bloodied and dirty blue uniforms stumbled among them, chained to each other in rows.

One of the prisoners was pushed out of the crowd, and forced to stumble towards the biggest tent, which was in the middle of the camp. Two Crimson Knights grabbed him by the arms and threw him inside the tent. Then, a girl came out of the crowd. Frank recognized her bright black hair and red dress. She entered the tent, and everyone was silent.

-:-

Mathews stumbled into the massive tent and, because his arms were tied, fell face-first on the ground.

The interior was dimly lit by a brazier located in the center, but large sections of the tent remained in the dark. Mathews felt furs beneath him, probably those of a bear or a deer. He struggled to his feet, and looked around. Siesta was behind him. She pushed him forward, towards the brazier, and then he saw... _something._

It's shape was that of a human, but no human could be that enormous. Emerging from the shadows, a monstruously large warrior walked into the light of the flames. His red armor seemed to ripple and change colors every time Mathews looked at it. Obscene runes were etched into the plates of hardened metal, and the albionese commander felt his head start to spin when he tried to focus on them. Maybe... maybe if he looked a bit closer... he could almost understand them...

'What have you brought me, girl?' the demigod's metallic voice thundered, making Mathews cringe and lose his concentration.

Siesta spoke in a soft tone.

'This man is Commander Mathews of the garrison at Linser Castle. Just as you asked, Lord Ghathrax.'

The girl's words were almost sweet, as if she were talking to a lover.

The astartes grabbed Mathews's face and studied it. The soldier let out a grunt of protest, as pain shot through his nerves.

'He does fit the description the prisoners gave. Maybe they were telling the truth. It's possible that ripping their arms off was unnecessary after all.' the Berserker said.

Mathews moved his head back violently.

'You savage! I demand to know what you have done with my men!' he shouted, new courage and determination flaring in his chest.

'Didn't you listen just now, mortal? I tortured them to get information, then I killed them. Well, most of them at least. Just like I'm going to do with you.' Ghathrax said, in a mocking tone.

'I won't tell you anything, monster. I am a free man, and I will die a free man. Nothing you can do to me will change that fact.' Mathews retorted, spitting the words like they were poison.

He heard Siesta's pristine laugh behind him, and then the low, metallic chuckles of the demigod.

'Your days as a "free man" are over, Commander. From now on, I own you. You will tell me what I want to know, and then I'll allow you to die. And mark my words, you _will_ talk. It depends on you what I'll do to make that happen.' Ghathrax snarled.

'You... you will not...' Mathews stammered.

'Yes, I will. Your dream of "freedom and liberty" is no more. The only freedom you'll know is that of death. But if you refuse to talk, if you make me waste my time... I will ensure that you become trapped inside your own body. I will gouge out your eyes, and make you eat them while I flay you alive. The pain will continue for several days, begging for a mercy you will never receive. I assure you, you'll ask me to end your miserable life, but I am not of the merciful kind. So make your choice quickly, Commander. Your clock is ticking.' Ghathrax spoke in a low, menacing and sinister tone, that chilled Mathews to the core.

Mathews gulped, all his determination and courage becoming but an echo.

'What do you want to know...?' he asked weakly.

'A few months ago, an army came through this land. I have information that the Dictator himself spent the night at Linser Castle, and that he had two prisoners with him. I want to know where he went, and what he did with the prisoners.' Ghathrax said.

Mathews looked at Siesta, behind him, and then at Ghathrax again. And then, he started talking.

-:-

**Undisclosed location in Northern Albion. **

Jack woke to the sound of screams and gunfire. He shielded his eyes with his right hand when a group of men passed his cell carrying torches that lit the dungeon. Groaning, he got up from the stinking pile of hay that served him as a bed and approached the bars.

While Louise had been tortured, with the intention of breaking her will, Jack wasn't so important to Cromwell's plans, so he'd been treated roughly but not to an extreme. He'd been stripped of everything he had, including his eyepatch, the hook on his left hand and all of his clothes, and left to rot in his cell. The jailman came once a day to feed him a disgusting, greyish porridge and allow him to drink some water from a wooden bucket that, Jack suspected, was also used on the horses.

Day after day of imprisonment had left him weak and pale, his skin hanging loosely from the bones. At first, Jack had tried to exercise his body, to keep his form, but the cell was barely two meters wide, and his success had been limited.

The worst of all wasn't the hunger, or the dirtiness, or boredom, though. The worst of all were the screams. Every day, after sundown, the jailers came for Louise. At first, Jack banged his fist at the bars, leaving red smears on the metal, shouting at them to leave her alone. Night after night, sometimes only for half an hour, sometimes until morning, Louise's cries reverberated through the dungeon levels.

Finally, Jack had stopped fighting. He barely ate, drank, or moved. Every night, he curled up against a corner, and hid his head between his arms and knees, trying to shut the screams out, until they finally stopped. By then, Jack had started secretly wishing Louise would finally just give in. But she never did. Her only intelligible word was always "No".

Jack heard the soldiers trying to barricade the door that led to his cell section. He couldn't see them, they were too far away to his right, and the wall blocked his view.

The boy moved his blond bangs out of the way, and fragments of dirt fell from them. If only he could see a little more to the right...

-:-

_Maim._

Louise looked to her right, and a soldier was ripped to pieces by an invisible force. A bullet hit her. The lead ball punched through her chest just above the right breast and exited from the back of her shoulderblade. She didn't even flinch. The wound closed so fast that it seemed like the shot had missed.

_Burn._

Louise's red eyes focused on the musketeer that had fired the bullet. He let out a scream, as his blood boiled inside his veins, and fell to the floor, smoke coming out from every orifice in his body. Louise stepped calmly over the body, her bare feet splashing softly on freshly spilt blood. There were no more soldiers in this level. No sign of Jack either.

_Kill_.

She started climbing the stairs to the first dungeon level, the one closest to the main floor of the castle. There was a hallway to her right, and a closed door to her left. With a thought, she ripped the door from its hinges and saw a kitchen. Not what she was looking for. A man in a stained apron surged from behind a table and charged against her, waving a knife. Louise tilted her head to the right, and the man's eyes became wide as the knife escaped from his hand, before moving against his throat and cutting it open.

_Maim._

The girl then looked down the hallway. She could see soldiers at the end, closing another door. Even at that distance, Louise could hear them piling heavy objects against it. She walked forward, stopping only to take a torch from the wall and drop it on the floor, igniting a carpet that lay beneath her feet. The flames danced around her and licked her body, causing no visible harm but giving her an even more fearsome appearance.

_Burn._

Louise reached the door, as the fire started devouring the hallway. She placed her hand on the wood, and it immediately turned to splinters, as did a table and four chairs that had been placed against it. A group of soldiers were now all that stood between her and...

_Kill._

Something was wrong. The boy was supposed to be in his cell, but instead was outside, being held by a tall, pale woman in a black leather dress. The blade of a knife grazed the skin of his neck, right beneath his chin. Louise looked at the woman, red eyes meeting purple ones.

'Is this what you want, little girl?' the woman said, a slight smile on her lips.

Louise didn't answer. She just stood there, in the middle of the fire that was threatening to spread to the cell block as well.

'So this is the power of the Void...' the woman purred. 'I am Myoznitnirn, the Mind of God. Playtime is over, girl. Return to your cell and agree to Mr. Cromwell's demands... or the boy will die. I'm giving you choices here, you see?'

'Louise... Louise, go. Get out of here.' Jack said, his voice coarse and low.

Louise took a step forward, and the soldiers started to back away towards Myoznitnirn and her captive. Then she spoke, and her words caused all the present to feel a chill going down their spines.

'I'm going to eat your heart. And then, I will bathe in your blood.' she promised.

Myoznitnirn laughed, and pressed the kinfe against Jack's neck until a drop of blood came out. The soldiers looked at the woman indecisively.

'You really want to test me, don't you? Your threats mean nothing. I have seen the true face of horror, and you are but an amateur. This is your last chance. Surrender, or the boy dies.' Myoznitnitn said.

Louise tilted her head sideways, and immediately, the soldiers were reduced to chunks of meat and blood splatters against the floor and walls. Then, she looked at the leather-dressed woman and took another step forward.

Jack suddenly moved. With desperation, he thrashed, and managed to knock the knife from Myoznitnirn's hand. Throwing himself against her, he shouted:

'Louise, run! Get out!'

Myoznitnirn hissed, and grabbed Jack by the neck, before violently throwing him against the wall. A wet crunch was heard when Jack's nose broke. But it was too late. Louise had already raised her hand, and Myoznitnirn screamed when she felt every bone in her right arm break. Still, she managed to keep conscious enough to reach inside a pouch tied to her belt and produce a small red sphere, no bigger than a cherry.

The woman threw it against the wall to her left, and an explosion rattled the very stones of the castle. Louise lunged forward, but Myoznitnirn dove through the hole in the wall, into the blizzard that howled outside. Louise gave chase, and followed the woman into the snow. She looked right and left, but she wasn't able to see anything in the blizzard. The searing cold wind blew all over her naked form, but if she felt it she didn't show.

Jack got up, holding his face between his hands. The cold was terrible. He needed to get some clothes, fast. Looking around, he saw the uniforms of the dead soldiers, and went straight for them. Some of the clothes were still intact, though sticky and smeared in blood. He clad himself in one of the blue uniforms, and went outside through the hole in the wall. Louise was a few meters away, just standing in the snow.

He ran towards her, carrying another uniform in his arms. The blizzard was so strong he almost fell two or three times. He reached Louise, and put a hand on her shoulder. She turned, and saw her eyes were normal again. Then, she just closed her eyes and fell against him.

Jack knew that whatever power she had wielded shortly before had drained her energy severely, so it was imperative to keep her warm, or she would die. The boy hurriedly dressed her in the uniform. It was too big for her, but it would have to do. He also had the cape of a sergeant, and he put it around Louise too.

Then, he put the girl over his back, and started walking, the wind blowing violently in his face.

-:-

**Southwest Albionese Coast. **

Prince Rodrigo de Aragona smiled as his fleet closed in on the Albionese coast. Under the cover of darkness, a hundred ships carrying forty thousand soldiers and five thousand knights came closer to the island, in complete silence.

Duke Gonzalo approached the prince.

'My prince, the fleet is in position. As soon as you give the order, we will commence disembarking our troops.' he said, in a hushed tone. Around them, soldiers and seamen went on with their duties, carrying weapons, sharpening blades or making sure their uniforms or armor were in good condition.

Rodrigo nodded. He took one last look at the dark coast, and nodded again.

'Begin.' he said, only.

The order was swiftly passed around, and soon the ships were unloading thousands of soldiers on Albionese soil.

It had been almost ten years since the fearsome Aragonian _tercios _had last set foot on Albion, after the disaster that the 18-Year War had been for Aragonian supremacy of the sea. Now, the proud aragonians were itching for some payback, and thousands of men had enlisted as soon as war was declared against the Holy Albion Republic.

The operation was fast and smooth. The aragonians preferred to fight on foot, using large regiments of pikemen and arquebusiers, and the cavalry was only formed by five thousand knights that usually stayed behind to cast powerful spells against the enemy. Also, Prince Rodrigo had decided against taking artillery to Albion, wanting to make a swift and decisive march against Londinium and take the city before supplies ran out.

Column after column of veteran soldiers poured from the ships, carrying everything that was necessary to set up camp before the march that would take place the following day. Soon, the first tents had risen from the cold, hard dirt, and works were in progress to build a wooden wall with a moat.

By the time the sun rose, the entire aragonian army had landed and the camp was finished. The invasion of Albion had started.

-:-

**La Rochelle, Gallia. **

Henrietta looked outside the window of the inn where she and her generals were staying during the preparations for the invasion, her hands tightening around her mace. She wore her full ceremonial armor, and though the winter air was cold, her chest and cheeks were flushed with concern. Outside, a massive army had all but taken over the port city. Forty thousand tristainians and eighty thousand germanians as well as at least thirty thousand Romalian mercenaries were camped just outside the city, an ocean of humanity that ate, slept, gambled, made love or just fought off boredom.

Wales was sitting on a chair behind Henrietta.

'Will you calm down? Nothing is going to happen! The Emperor will get here, you will exchange greetings, you will discuss strategy or something like that, and then he will leave! You won't even have to see him again until you are actually on the battlefield!' Wales insisted.

'He knows, Wales. Or he will soon enough. I don't intend to marry him anyways, but what about my people? His army outnumbers us by at least two to one.' Henrietta said, desperation in her voice. 'Even if he doesn't order them to attack us, even if he just decides to retreat and leave us to fend for ourselves, how can we hope to best the seventy thousand strong Republican Army by ourselves? Furthermore, our fleet is minuscule! We wouldn't even be able to transport our own troops to Albion, let alone supply them!'

Wales sighed.

'Tell him after the war then. Wait until it's all over, and once you're back safely to Tristain, you can tell him you won't marry him. His army will be too weary to fight another war, so he won't be able to invade Tristain right after Albion.' Wales suggested.

Henrietta turned around and looked at the albionese prince. She approached him, and ran her fingers through his blond hair.

'Why can't we just be together?' she asked him, in a soft voice. 'Why must these rules, these politics, direct our lives? Why is this so wrong?'

Wales got up, and took her hand between his.

'It isn't wrong. What we feel right now... it's real. Nothing so beautiful could ever be wrong.' Wales said, in a low voice.

Henrietta looked at Wales and closed her blue eyes as he leaned in to kiss her.

There was a knock on the door.

'Your Majesties? May I come in?' a voice said, outside the room.

Henrietta and Wales both took a step back, clearing their throats.

'Come in!' Henrietta said.

The door opened, and a nervous-looking guard came in leaving space for two men and a woman to enter. They were all clad in black armor. The first man was young. His face had a kind expression, and his steel grey eyes contrasted against his pale blond hair. The second man was enormous. Henrietta thought of Louise's familiar when she saw him and, though no man could ever be as big as him, this one was very close. He was bald, and had a long cut drawing from his scalp to his chin, going over the right eye, which had a milky color. The other eye was as black as his armor. And finally, the woman was more like a little girl. She was sickly pale, and her hair was almost silver in color, as opposed to her eyes, which were purple.

The young man spoke first.

'Greetings, your Highness. I am Emperor Albrecht II of Germania.' he said, a smile on his face. 'These are Lord Gunther Hess, _Reichsgraf_ of Altenaar, and Lady Elin Von Lewe, Duchess of Gorod.'

The _Reichsgraf _gave a quick nod, and the girl gracefully curtseyed, a smile on her lips. Henrietta could have sworn there was something slightly reddish between her canines and incisives, though later she admitted that she might have just imagined it.

'Welcome, your Majesty, your Graces. I believe you know Prince Wales, rightful heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Albion.' Henrietta said, making a gesture at Wales to come closer, which he did.

'May I offer you some wine, your Majesty?' Wales then said, gesturing at the table in the center of the room, where there sat a bottle and some glasses.

'Your hospitality is much appreciated, Prince Wales. I'm truly sorry for the loss of your family, and I assure you I will do all in my power to return to you what is rightfully yours by divine decree.' the Emperor said, before he and the two germanian nobles moved to sit at the table.

Once the formalities were over, and now sipping wine while sitting comfortably, Henrietta spoke.

'Emperor Albrecht, if I may... how do you plan to win this war? What strategy do you propose?'

'I must say, I doubt this will be much of a challenge, dear fiancé.' the young man said, winking at Henrietta. The girl pretended not to notice, though she felt a slight heat on her cheeks. 'We have the sacred duty as nobles to crush those rebels like the worms they are, and thank the Founder, we have a grand army to achieve it.'

'Still, this enormous army will need to be well-supplied to be able to fight properly.' Wales said. 'We have only been able to gather enough food, water, ammunition and clothing for a month of campaign. If the war extends for longer than that, I'm afraid we will have to resort to pillage and foraging, which will still be very difficult this far into the winter. Besides, the farmers we will be forced to rob are still my people, and I would like to avoid damage to them or their property.'

'Of course, my friend. I understand your position.' Albrecht said, his smile unwavering. 'You shouldn't worry, though. With these numbers, we will crush anything the enemy dares put in our way. Also, I have received word that Prince Rodrigo of Aragona has landed near the Thundercliffs with forty thousand men, and there are rumours of bands of raiders scouring the Westshire Province. It is said that a demon of darkness leads them. You wouldn't know anything about this, by any chance?'

Waldes and Henrietta looked at each other, then shook their heads.

'This is the first we hear about it.' Henrietta said.

The Emperor shrugged.

'At any rate, the Aragonian army will join us on the way to Londinium, and so will their supplies. With two hundred thousand men, not even the greatest general will be able to avoid our inevitable victory.' Albrecht said.

Wales shook his head.

'It will not be so simple. The rebels are led by a genius. He's won almost every battle he's been in. We managed to defeat him at Tarbes, but I don't believe he was planning an invasion. This time, we'll be fighting at their territory, and they have nowhere to run. They will never let us join forces with the aragonians.'

'It's all smoke and mirrors, my friend.' Albrecht answered. 'What we have created here is the biggest army this world has ever seen. That genius general of yours may try all the tricks he wants, but our forces are simply too numerous. We will crush him under the pikes of our regiments and the boots of our knights.'

Henrietta intervened.

'Your Majesty, your confidence is admirable at best, but we still need to be cautious. If we were to be deceived and made to fall into a trap...' she started.

'Only idiots walk into traps like lambs walk into a slaughterhouse. Do you consider me an idiot, dear fiancé?' it was obvious the Emperor was starting to lose patience.

'No, but...' Henrietta tried to answer.

'Do you think I would let myself be fooled? You give too much credit to that rebel general and his horde of mongrels and farmers armed with pitchforks. We will take Londinium within the month, and there is nothing he can do to stop us. Now this meeting is over. I have much to attend to.' the Emperor said, cleary irritated. He got up, as well as the other two nobles, and left the room.

Henrietta leaned back in her chair and let out a sigh. She felt Wales's hand on her shoulder, and she turned to face him.

'Don't worry, my love.' he said. 'We just need to be cautious, that's all. We will win this, I'm sure of it.'

Henrietta smiled sadly.

'I believe that... but how many will have to die for that to become true? How many wives and sons will never see their husbands and fathers return?'

Wales got up, and embraced her.

'Everything will be alright. I promise.'

-:-

**There! Now that I'm back, I'll be updating once again every week. I solemnly swear to make the wait worthwhile. **

**As always, fav, follow and review! See ya, folks! :D**


	21. Chapter 21: Preparations

**Chapter 21 in the house! **

**Author: So, the invasion has finally started! Who will win the war? Place your bets!**

**General Magnus: Well of course I will be the winner! I'm a genius! **

**Ghathrax: Pff... You haven't shown any real command skills, you weakling! You're just the typical predictable adaptational villain! **

**General Magnus: We'll see about that on the battlefield, you oversized tuna can!**

**Author: Alright, that's enough! Save it for the story!**

-:-

**Northern Albion.**

Louise dreamed.

Again.

This time, it was hazy and blurred. Smoke choked her. She was falling. But it wasn't free fall. She was being pulled down by something, something she was grabbing on to with all her might. A sword. It was a sword, that plunged deep into the smoke that blinded her.

Louise was coming closer to the ground. She could feel it in her gut. She wanted to let go, but she didn't. The sword was hot, like molten iron. Closer. She heard the roar. Massive, deafening, terrifying. Closer. White clouds now mixed with the black smoke. She could almost see the ground now. Closer. Then she saw what was below her, and it roared. Three eyes, red and glowing, fixed on her. Hunger, rage... fear. Closer. The creature roared one last time, and she heard a scream, loud, continuous. They smashed into the ground...

...and she woke up, screaming her lungs out. Her sight focused, and she saw an anxious face hovering over hers. Jack.

'Louise! Louise, what's wrong? Talk to me!' he said, as he shook her by the shoulders.

Louise quieted down, and grabbed Jack by the flaps of his stolen coat. She was trembling in fear. She looked around. They were in a small cave, which was lit by a small fire that threw orange light on the icy walls. The blizzard still howled outside.

'W-where...? What...?' Louise stammered, shaking violently.

'Calm down. It was just a dream. Calm down...' Jack whispered, holding her in place.

'Jack...? Where... where are we? Where's Ghathrax...? Where's the Princess...?' she asked, her voice frightened and shaky.

'We're in Albion, remember? Cromwell... he took us prisoner.' Jack answered, still holding Louise. He was kneeling on the ground, Louise's head on his lap. The small girl was so tightly wrapped in the albionese uniform and the blanket that she could barely move, resembling an oversized larva. Only part of her face and a few pink locks were visible.

The girl remembered. The battle of Tarbes, Cromwell capturing them, the journey to his castle... and then the nightmarish months she had spent there. She remembered her vision, and the god she had spoken to... she remembered the carnage. The rage, the fear, the pain... she remembered it all.

'Londinium.' she whispered.

'What?' Jack asked, leaning in to hear better.

'We have to go to Londinium.' Louise said.

'Absolutely not. Are you crazy? We're going back to Tristain. Have you forgotten that we're in enemy territory? As soon as the blizzard is over, Cromwell's men will be all over us. We have to remain as far as we can from population centers.'

'No. We have to go to Londinium, Jack.' Louise said. Her voice was low, but firm. 'I can't tell you why. Not yet. But... we need to go there. Please.'

'Listen to me. We can't go there, even if we wanted.' Jack sighed. 'I could hear the guards, talking outside my cell. There are suspicions of an invasion, and the Army has been assembled. There are seventy thousand soldiers garrisoned in Londinium, and it only takes one to recognize us.'

'We can go in disguise...' Louise began.

'Louise, this is nonsense. You want to put yourself in risk because of what? A feeling? A hunch?' Jack cut her off.

'You don't understand...' Louise said.

'That is enough, Louise!' Jack got up, more roughly than was necessary, and walked to the entrance of the cave.

Louise disentangled herself from the blanket and got up as well. Then, she walked up to him, stomping the hard dirt under her too-big boots, grabbed Jack by the arm and forced him to turn around.

'That is NOT enough, Jack o'Conor! If you don't want to come, then don't! Be a coward if you like! But I am going to Londinium!' she shouted.

'Will you shut up about Londinium already!?' Jack shouted back, pushing her hand back. 'Why, in the name of the Founder, why must you go there of all places!? What is so important that you have to risk both our lives by entering the biggest goddamn city in Albion, which is also garrisoned by the biggest goddamn army in the island!?'

'The reason why I exist!' Louise screamed, tears falling down her cheeks.

Jack stopped in mid-sentence. They both stared at each other, Louise with a furious expression on her face, Jack with a dumbfounded one.

'Excuse me?' he inquired.

'When they were... when they were trying to... break me... I had this vision...' Louise said, averting her gaze. Tears journeyed over her face.

'A vision.' Jack repeated. 'You want to go to Londinium because of a vision.'

'Yes, you albionese prick! I had a vision of a god, and he told me to go to Londinium!' Louise shouted.

'A god...? Wha-? That's heresy, Louise! What the hell are you talking about?' Jack asked, lowering his voice and looking around as if he feared a papal inquisitor was going to come through the walls of the cave.

'He said I was a Void mage. He said he had a task for me, and that it would reveal my true purpose. He said that the reason I couldn't cast elemental magic was because I was using the wrong powers.' Louise said.

Jack frowned.

'That Viscount... he called you Void descendant. And Cromwell... he wanted something from you. He wanted to use your power, didn't he?' the boy asked.

Louise nodded.

'The god... he also said I had to go to the cathedral of Londinium, then find the catacombs and make my way to a secret chamber there. He said you knew the way. I... I think he referred to that chamber you spoke about on the way to Tarbes, three months ago.' the girl said.

'The catacombs of Londinium... that is a really bad idea, Louise. Even if what you're saying is true, the catacombs are very dangerous. I told you I went there, but what I didn't tell you was that I barely made it back. That place is a labyrinth, and things... things live there. Not human at all. I was lucky, because I dropped a trail of marbles behind me as I walked and they helped me find my way back to the surface, but... I positively know something chased me for some time down there.'

Louise put her hand on his arm.

'Please, Jack. I need to do this. I need to find out who I really am, why I am here...' she said.

Jack looked at her. She looked exhausted, her hair was dirty, her face covered in traces of soot and dried blood. But her eyes burned with determination. The boy let out a sigh, as he rubbed the stump on his right hand.

'Alright... we will go to Londinium.' he said, reluctantly.

-:-

**Londinium, Albion. **

It had been an hour since the session of Congress had started, and General Magnus was already about to rise from his seat and scream out in frustration.

Around him, dozens of scared diplomats and politicians shouted at each other, trying to discern the best course of action for the coming war. Some asked for caution and dialogue. Others overtly advocated war.

'We can't stand around doing nothing while the Aragonians massacre our people and burn our fields! We must take action now!' an obese congressman was saying.

His interlocutor, a former baron from the North, responded:

'And what do you propose we do? Send the Army to the South? That is madnes! We have the advantage of weather up North! We should entrench, and let them starve and freeze to death outside our gates!'

'You can't be serious, esteemed colleague!' a third politician intervened. 'We cannot abandon the people of the Southern provinces! That is exactly why we rebelled! To protect the people!'

'Let us send emmisaries then! Ask for terms!' a fourth cried out.

'We already tried that, old fool. The Aragonians simply turned them over to the Inquisition, and they were executed for heresy!'

'ENOUGH!' Magnus roared, rising from his seat. His potent military voice made everyone squint, and suddenly there was only silence. All eyes fixed on the General.

'You have given me full command of the Army for only one reason. To defend the people of this country from their enemies. I will not see it fall into bickering and chaos only months after managing to free ourselves from the royalist oppression! This is what they want, can't you see it? Are you going to fight amongst yourselves while the royalists march into OUR country, sack our farms, kill our sons and brothers and rape our wives and daughters? Or are you going to behave like _men_?' Magnus said, his eyes fixing on the congressmen, one by one.

'What should we do then, General? What do you propose?' said one of the politicians. Magnus recognized him as the leader of the Labour Party.

'The Aragonians are already here. And not only them. Germania and Tristain have declared war as well. They have amassed an enormous army at La Rochelle, Gallia. Although the Gallians haven't shown any willingness to join them, it is obvious they support them. They also have an enormous fleet, that outnumbers ours by more than 5 to 1. We can't risk what little naval support we have, so I have given the order for the fleet to evacuate the population of all cities between the South coast and North Gotha. We have a mobile army of 40,000 regular troops and 30,000 militia volunteers. Also, we will leave two sizeable garrisons of 14,000 volunteers in both Losailes and South Gotha. Their task will be to hold the enemy up for as long as they can. Once they cannot resist anymore, they have orders to scatter and use guerrilla tactics to further delay the enemy armies. Meanwhile, the Republican Army will march to Westshire and destroy the Aragonian army before the Germanians and Tristainians can land.'

Magnus made a pause, looking around.

'It will not be an easy task. But our men are trained soldiers fighting for their homes, and their families! Our enemies are only conscripted farmers, and part-time soldiers. Their knights and mages know there is no glory to be gained in killing rebels like us. They won't be willing to die just to kill a few more of us. Our soldiers will! They know that if they fail here, their families will pay the price! That is why we won't lose this war! We are fighting for our very survival, while they are fighting for a land that isn't theirs. They fight for tyranny. We fight for _freedom_!' the General shouted, raising his fist.

The congressmen got up and, cheering, gave Magnus a standing ovation. Magnus looked in their eyes, and he saw what had made him take up his uniform and fight. He saw confidence, passion, strength. They weren't afraid anymore. They were excited. Let them come! Let them try to break our will, for they will fail!

-:-

**Westshire Forest, Albion.**

It was morning when Ghathrax came out of his enormous tent, with Siesta closely following him. Allard and Marcel walked up to the enormous Berserker, and bowed their heads before him.

'Do we have a location, Lord Ghathrax?' Allard asked.

'Indeed we do. Prepare the warriors to march north.' the astartes said, in his deep, metallic voice.

'And the prisoners?' Marcel asked.

'Them, too.' Ghathrax answered.

'But, Lord Ghathrax, some have become sick, or are too weak or wounded to walk.' Siesta said softly from behind.

The Berserker made a strange coughing sound. He was laughing.

'You mortals break so quickly. Kill any prisoner who can't walk. We can't afford delays.' he said, and walked off. A group of Crimson Knights standing nearby followed him, as they put on their helms, which until then had been resting under their arms or slid back on their heads.

Siesta shrugged, then followed the armored warriors.

Allard started giving orders, as he and Marcel moved towards the groups of cages that housed the terrified, starving, freezing and in some cases, dying prisoners. The warriors that stood guard next to them quickly opened the cages, and shouting curses, made the prisoners exit them, poking them with javelins and spears.

Jenny exited her cage, trying to keep her torn dress from leaving her body. The blue rags were filthy, and still had blood on them. Frank put an arm around her, and used his own body to shield her from the cold air and the lustful eyes of the Red Legionnaires.

The prisoners were roughly made to form in lines in front of several blacksmiths, who then proceeded to chain them by their right ankles, one after the other. Jenny shut her eyes, to avoid seeing the hammer fall on a big iron nail so close to her leg to fasten the cuff. There was a loud _clang _sound, and Jenny found herself pushed forward. She still had her ankle. Frank was next. The hammer fell, and Frank was pushed forward as well.

Each row had up to fifteen men and women, chained to each other by their feet. Once the Legionnaires deemed a row had enough prisoners, they were pushed forward and made to walk. Many stumbled and tried to regain balance, their movements impaired by those who came before or after, but they soon got the hang of synchronizing their steps.

Jenny was the third one in her row, and Frank was the fourth. Suddenly, there was a commotion. One of the prisoners was being dragged out of the line by two warriors. Jenny turned her head back, and saw that the prisoner, one of the soldiers that had been captured the last night, had a very ugly-looking cut on his leg. It looked infected, and it oozed pus and blood.

The warriors made the soldier kneel, and while one held him down, the other raised an axe over his head. The soldier still had time to open his mouth to beg, before the axe fell on his neck. The head rolled, and it's lifeless eyes looked upon the cloudy sky that could be seen through the leaves of the trees that grew all around the clearing. Blood poured from the severed neck, and a collective gasp could be heard. Then, the warriors started pushing, shoving and poking the prisoners again, to make them move. Nobody bothered picking up the body or dragging it away.

Jenny felt Frank's hand on her shoulder, as they were forced to walk, the chain tensing, then loosening with every step. Around the prisoners, dozens of Red Legionnaires were breaking camp. Fires were doused, tents were folded and set on carts or over the backs of the warriors. This was also the first time Jenny had seen any women or children. It seemed like they were kept in the center of the camp, probably to keep them safe should the Legion fall under attack.

Small boys were carrying arrows, spearpoints and bowstrings, while some young girls rubbed a mixture of salt and snow on pieces of meat, before packing it tightly between layers of leather. Jenny knew this was to preserve the meat for a long time. She'd seen Frank's father do it dozens of times at the butchery.

Several other women helped the warriors and knights put on pieces of armor, or packed their belongings for transport. Jenny also saw a few Crimson Knights watering their horses. Each had three horses. A big one, for battle, a second, smaller one, for travel, and a third one to carry their armor and weapons.

Only an hour passed before the Legion was ready to march. It seemed like they had performed the operation many times before. Jenny was amazed at how many they were, though. Only a few had attacked Mitcham, and the war party that had returned the previous night wasn't all that big either. The girl had thought they were only a small raider band, but that assumption soon proved wrong.

The prisoners were made to walk at the head of the column that had swiftly formed to begin the march. They pitifully stumbled behind the knights that rode at the very front, led by the enormous Ghathrax.

The Legion was deep inside Westshire Forest. It still took them a few hours to break out from the dense treeline, and by then, Jenny's feet were already aching. She was accustomed to walk long distances, but never in the cold, chained to fifteen other people, and after four days of not eating a thing, only drinking a cup of water a day, that the Red Legionnaires gave them to avoid them dying of thirst.

Still, it wasn't until she looked backwards after finally coming out of the forest that she realized how enormous the Red Legion really was. What Jenny didn't know was that after suffering horrible losses in the Battle of Tarbes, Tristain had offered all its incarcerated population the choice of continuing to serve out their sentences, which in some cases would end in torture and execution, or joining the Red Legion for their risky expedition to Albion.

Many other people had joined as well, out of thirst for adventure, to escape from their debts, or just for profit. Over the course of the months, some had died and some had left, but the vast majority stayed. Since the Red Legion allowed the families of the warriors to join them, an enormous number of non combatants followed the Legion to Albion.

It had been a miracle that they had gone unnoticed all that time, and it would have been an impossible feat if not for the fact that their leader was a Space Marine. Even though he was crazed, and bloodthirsty, Ghathrax was an unparalelled strategist, at least when compared to the generals and kings of Halkeginia. At first, the Berserker had only ordered attacks on isolated farms and towns for supplies, disguising them as bandit raids. But now, they had little need to stay hidden. Ghathrax had found out where Louise was being held, and there would be no army that could stop him from achieving his objective.

Column after column of warriors poured from the forest, forming a huge mass of armed men, far from the small force that had held the banks of the Serein River against the albionese only three months earlier.

Thirty thousand men, led by a thousand Crimson Knights, exited the Forest, stomping the ground with their leather boots and the hooves of their horses. Banners flew in the morning breeze, and swords, axes and spearpoints glinted in the cold light of the rising sun.

As they marched through a small plain, Jenny saw some ruins to her left. They were still smoking. Later, she realized they had been walking next to the charred remains of Linser Castle. The small fortress had been attacked and burned few hours before the Legion broke camp.

But by then, Jenny just didn't care anymore. The only things that mattered were her sore feet, the rumbling in her stomach, and the cold on her skin. The chain clanked every time she took a step. Left foot. Right foot. _Clank_. Left, right. _Clank_. Left, right. _Clank_.

-:-

**La Rochelle, Gallia.**

The Tristainian flagship _Lyfbrasir _gently rocked back and forth, sailing through the air currents that pushed it forward, drawing closer to the already visible floating island of Albion. Henrietta stood next to the helm, and looked forward, her face unreadable.

To larboard, the _Eagle_ sailed just as swiflty, being much smaller and lightly armed than the enormous _Lyfbrasir_. Behind the two ships a massive armada drew closer to Albion as well. Five hundred ships, at least a hundred of them warships, formed an impressive wall of canvas and wood. Heavily armed ships-of-the-line guarded the groups of massive transport barges, that carried thousands of soldiers and tons of supplies in their oversized cargo bays.

Henrietta looked at the _Eagle_, and saw Wales looking at her. She slightly reddened, and waved her hand discreetly. Even at more than fifty meters, the young queen saw him smile. Suddenly, a throat cleared next to her. The girl looked to her left, and saw Cardinal Mazarin, accompanied by Generals Gramont and Poitiers. There was also a boy standing next to the men, that Henrietta recognized as Guiche de Gramont, the General's eldest son. He seemed quite flustered and yes, afraid.

'Your Highness, I have received a letter from Prince Rodrigo. He says his army is making its way to Black Hill to make camp. They will wait for our forces to get there before commencing the march to Londinium.' the Cardinal said.

'Thank you, Cardinal Mazarin. Have you been able to gather any information about you-know-who?' Henrietta said, fidgeting with her mace.

'I have received a message from one of my spies concerning the familiar, yes. It seems the horde is on the move. They might have come through information as to the location of the youngest La Valliére.' the cleric said. 'Still, I wouldn't advise reporting this to the Dukes of La Valliére just yet.'

'Excuse me? Why wouldn't I tell them? She's her daughter! I can't possibly keep them from learning good news about Louise!' Henrietta exclaimed.

'Your Highness, the Duke of La Valliére and his wife only support this campaign because their daughter is at stake. Karin de La Valliére is very outspoken on the matter that attacking Albion is foolish. If they learn that their daughter will be probably delivered to them without the need of committing their troops, they will withdraw to their lands again. They have enough power and influence to do so, and their lands are the most extensive of the country, second only to the Crown's own, which would make confiscating them impossible. There is a danger that they could even revolt against the Crown, and contrary to the Albionese rebels, they are nobles, which gives them claim.' Mazarin reasoned.

Henrietta bit her lip.

'We can't afford losing the La Valliére feudal army. But I can't knowingly hide news of their daughter to very concerned parents. I wash my hands, Mazarin. Do as you see fit, but don't bring this matter up in my presence ever again.' the queen said, turning her back on the Cardinal.

'As you wish, Your Highness. I will excuse myself in that case.' Mazarin said, bowing.

The two Gramonts stayed behind, as did General Poitiers. Yet none of them saw the tear that glistened on Henrietta's cheek.

"_Soon, my friend. We will see each other again, and I'll make those rebels pay for what they have done. I swear."_

-:-

**Hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned for more chapters of this epic story! Blood for the Blood God!**


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